The Life Before
by Sigh-cology
Summary: April/Mark - [ THE END ] ...but what happens to Mark? .... Please READ/REVIEW (PG for scenes containing violence, harsh language and drug use. Hah, I sound like Mr. Moviefone.)
1. Ch. 1- Once Upon a Time

Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me but of course everyone knows that. I'm not sure if I should go on b/c the subject matter has been done and beaten to death but- oh well! I have chapter 2 done but I'm not sure if I should post it. Read and review please.  
  
  
Prologue:   
  
"Hi April."  
Mark sat down on the bright green grass and touched the cold gray gravestone with his hand. He outlined her name with one finger and took a deep breath, inhaling the cool spring air into his lungs.  
April Dylan.  
April 10th, 1974 - February 5th, 1995.  
"Happy birthday." he whispered.  
He put his camera down next to him and stared at her name. "You would have been twenty eight today. Remember when we thought that was old? I always thought we'd live forever. Or at least, you would."  
He lowered his hand and touched the ground beneath his legs. It was warm and soft beneath his palms.  
"You were the one that believed in fairytales, remember?" he said. "You believed in happily ever after, long after all of us gave up. You're probably up there now, living a fairytale. Somewhere in Never Never Land, young and happy."  
Mark took a deep breath, trying to control the tears that threatened their way down his face.  
"You believed in magic, April. I remember I used to tease you about reading that old children's book."   
He closed his eyes briefly and smiled.  
"You believed in magic. I believed in you."  
For a moment he sat still, studying his surroundings with his watchful, bright blue eyes. If anyone else had seen him, they would have thought him to be a child. His lips were softly set in a smile and his skin was pale and unusually smooth. A soft breeze ruffled his blonde hair and he grinned at the feel of it on his cheeks.  
Mark touched the cheerful looking daisies in front of the gravestone. He played with their delicate white petals.  
"Roger brought these for you earlier." he said after awhile. "He remembered they were your favorite. He remembers everything about you, April. He still loves you. We all do. Even Mimi does, even though she never met you. I told her about you. You would have liked her- you liked everyone."  
Mark paused and listened to the wind blow through the trees. When he looked back at her headstone, his eyes were filled with tears.  
"I miss you so much, April." he said quietly. "Not a day goes by that I don't think about you. Sometimes I wish that I'd never met you. That you never met Roger. Sometimes I wish I'd never gotten the chance to love you. We ruined you, April, We killed you. In the end, we lost you."  
"In the end, I lost you."  
  
  
  
Chapter 1- Once Upon A Time  
(9 years earlier)  
  
"Whoa, who is Roger talking to?"  
Benny sat up and craned his neck, leaning forward. His dark brown eyes were focused in one direction.   
The club was packed and Mark, Maureen, and Benny were sitting at the bar, fighting off the droves of people that threatened to push them off of their stools.  
"What?!" Maureen yelled over the din.  
"I said, who is Roger talking to?!" Benny yelled. "He's been talking to her all night!"  
Mark and Maureen looked at him blankly and Benny rolled his eyes.  
He pointed towards the end of the bar and both of them turned their heads to look.  
"I can't see!" Maureen whined loudly. She turned around and tugged at Mark's sweater, pouting her shiny red lips at him. "Forget Roger! Let's dance, Pookie!"  
Mark shook his head. "Uh-uh. You go ahead." he said. "You always make fun of the way I dance anyway."  
Maureen shrugged, not really hearing his softly spoken words, and dove into the dark mass surrounding them. Mark watched her as she disappeared and sighed heavily.  
Benny laughed and leaned forward so Mark could hear him better.   
"Man, you are such a sucker!"   
Mark winced. "Shut up, Benny!"  
"You know she's fucking around and you still stay with her!"  
"I love her!"  
"Well, you're an even bigger sucker than I thought you were!"  
Benny's eyes shifted from Mark's face back into the crowd.   
"Hey, here comes Roger! Check out the piece of ass with him!"  
Mark turned around to see Roger and a small woman walking towards them. Roger's face was beaming and still flushed from his recent performance.  
Mark knew how important this particular gig had been for him. It was the largest venue he had played at and the crowd had worshipped him. Through his camera, Mark had watched Roger on stage screaming into his microphone. He knew that Roger had loved every sweat soaked chord of each song.  
This was Roger's night.  
Which was why Mark had gone to the club, despite his dislike of crowds.  
"Hey guys!" Roger said, smiling at Mark and Benny.  
His dirty blonde hair was matted down with sweat and his face was in need of a shave but Mark knew that most of the woman who had seen Roger on stage wanted to take him home.  
"Hey Roge." Mark said, smiling. "Great show. I got it all on film."  
Roger grinned at him and slapped him on the back.   
"Thanks Mark!" He turned to the woman and winked at her. "This is my bestfriend, Mark Cohen. He's the guy who filmed my gig tonight. The other guy is Benny."  
The woman leaned forward and held out her hand. "Hi Mark. Hi Benny." she said, almost inaudibly. "I'm April."  
Mark shook her hand politely but he barely looked at her. His eyes scanned the crowd of people behind her and frowned. Maureen was with a tall, dark haired man on the dance floor and it looked like she was writing something on his hand.  
Shit, Mark thought, she's at it again.  
"Me and April are gonna go outside for awhile. It's too fucking hot in here!" Roger said. "I'll see you guys later!"  
Mark snapped back to attention and forced himself to smile. He nodded and gave a little wave.   
"Yeah, it was nice meeting you, April." he muttered.  
As Roger and April walked away, hand in hand, Benny hit on the back of his arm.  
"You barely gave her a second look!"  
"Who? Maureen?" Mark said, not looking away from his girlfriend. "She's right there."  
"No! April!" Benny exclaimed. "Man, I hate Roger! He always gets the best looking chicks!"  
Mark shrugged, not really paying attention. He leaned towards Benny and pointed at Maureen.  
"Does that looked like what I think it looks like?" he asked.  
Benny looked up and grinned, shaking his head. "If you think it looks like she's giving her number to that guy, then yeah."  
Mark frowned again and turned back to the bar. Benny laughed and punched him in the arm.  
"Like I said, Mark! You are a sucker!"  
  
  
Mark sighed heavily as he pushed the door to the loft open.  
It had been a long night for him.  
When he had asked Maureen what she had written on the dark haired man's hand, she yelled at him for not trusting in her. He left the club and had taken a walk by himself through the dark streets of the city, filming the shadows that surrounded him.  
He was in a dark, lonely mood.  
Why shouldn't I be? he thought.  
My girlfriend is cheating on me.  
My career is nonexistent.  
I have nothing to look forward to anymore.  
He heard giggles coming from Roger's room. He set his camera down on the table and walked cautiously towards the slightly open door.  
Probably banging their heads off, Mark thought sullenly. He remembered the woman he had been introduced to. He turned around to go to his room when he heard Roger call out to him.  
"Mark, you're home! Come in here for a sec!"  
Mark frowned and pushed the door open. He just wanted to crash onto his bed and go to sleep but Roger sounded upbeat.  
Mark didn't want to ruin this night for him.  
"Yeah, what is it, Roge?"  
Roger's window was wide open and aside from the small lamp in the corner, the moon was the main source of light. The moonlight illuminated April as she sat on Roger's bed, awkwardly holding his guitar. Roger was kneeling down in front of her, placing her fingers on the fret board.  
They were both laughing.  
"Hey, check her out. She's gonna be the new guitarist for the Well Hungarians." Roger said, looking up at Mark with a big grin on his face.  
April shook her head and blushed. For the first time that night, Mark took notice of her.  
She had large, brown eyes and pink round cheeks. Her dark clothing was typical club attire- tight shirt and pants- but she seemed uncomfortable in them. She was tugging at the bottom of her shirt as if she were embarrassed by her bare stomach.  
Her thick, brown hair was lit up from behind by a shaft of moonlight.  
She wasn't Roger's average club groupie but she was extremely pretty.  
"Come on, let Mark listen." Roger teased her. April laughed again and Roger winked at Mark.  
"I taught her the first four chords of..."  
"Roger!" April protested. She shook her head and giggled, looking up at Mark. "I think he just wants you to hear me make a fool out of myself."  
Mark smiled back at her, feeling the weight of the night lift off of his shoulders.   
"I'm sure you're not that bad." he said, suddenly feeling better.  
April shook her head and laughed again before looking back down at the guitar and attempting to stretch her fingers out to the proper positions. She strummed one chord and then struggled with another position, her mouth frowing in concentration. After a few minutes, she gave a big sigh and put her arms down.  
Roger was laughing wildly and Mark joined him.  
"Ha. Ha." April said in mock anger. She wagged her finger at Roger. "That's enough musical entertainment from me for one night, Roger."  
Roger reached forward and took April's hand, bringing it to his lips.  
"Okay, no more of that for tonight." he said, still smiling.  
The two of them looked at each for a moment.  
Mark stopped smiling and took a step back. He suddenly felt misplaced, as if he had walked into a scene from another film by accident.  
Had they forgotten he was there?  
He coughed loudly and they both looked up at him.  
"Um, I'm pretty sleepy. I'll see you guys in the morning." Mark said, faking a yawn.  
Roger nodded and then looked up, startled, when April stood up.  
"Yeah, I should be getting home." she said, tugging at her shirt once more. Roger stood up, looking confused.  
"I have work in about four hours. Roger, you've kept me up!"  
"You're going home?" Roger asked.  
April gave him a strange look and then blushed. "Yes, Roger, I am going home." She tapped him lightly on his chest. "Besides, what will Mark think of me if I stayed over?"  
Roger glanced at Mark, who held up his hands.  
"April, it's okay." Mark said, feeling flustered. "I'm used to it."  
April looked back at Roger, arching her eyebrow. "So he's used to you bringing home random girls from the club?"  
Roger looked back at Mark, his dark blue eyes telling him that he had said the wrong thing.  
"Uh, no..." Mark began but Roger interrupted him.  
"April, what he meant was..."  
April laughed sweetly and threw her arms around Roger's shoulders, surprising both men. She hugged him tightly for a few seconds and then jumped back, walking past Mark to the door.  
"It's okay." she said lightly. "I'll give you a call tomorrow. Don't screen."  
She looked back at Mark and tilted her head.   
"It was nice meeting you again, Mark."  
Roger stared after her as she walked out of his room and when they heard the front door slam shut, he sat down on the edge of his bed and looked up at Mark.  
"Well?" Roger said. "What do you think?"  
"She's cute." Mark said. He hesitated. "And really sweet."  
Roger stared at him. "But...?"  
"But.. she's not really your type, is she?" Mark said. "I mean, what happened to the blonde Amazon wild woman from Sunday? Or that red head from last week?"  
Roger shrugged. "Faded into the woodwork, like all the rest." he said.  
Mark sat down on the bed next to him. "So how'd you meet her?"  
"Mike, you know, our drummer. April is his sister's friend. They both just moved here a month ago." Roger said. A slow smile spread over his face. "She is pretty cute, huh?"  
Mark smiled slightly. He knew Roger. Roger usually spoke less than two sentences about the women he dated.   
"Did you guys spend the whole night talking?" Mark asked.  
Roger nodded.  
"Wow." Mark said. "Usually by now you'd be on round three. Your bed would be a sweaty mess and me and Maureen would be up, pounding on the wall..."  
Roger punched Mark in the arm and Mark winced.  
"Hey! You and Benny need to stop doing that!" Mark cried out. "I'm a scrawny little..."  
"Come on, Mark, take it like a man!" Roger teased. Mark laughed and pushed his glasses back up with one finger.  
"She looks pretty young."  
"She's only a year younger than you." Roger said. He ran his fingers through his messy hair. "She turned nineteen just this past April. Her favorite color is blue and she likes Chinese food."  
"And let me guess, she enjoys long walks on the beach." Mark said playfully. "Hates rude people and loves to date rock stars."  
Roger grinned. "Yeah, that about covers it."  
"And she's a horrible guitarist." Mark added.  
"Fucking terrible." Roger said but his eyes sparkled. "Speaking of fucking terrible, where's your drama queen?"  
Mark sighed and felt pure exhaustion wash over him. "She's probably still at the club." he muttered.  
Roger shook his head and threw a heavy arm around Mark's thin shoulders.  
"Why do you put up with her shit." he asked seriously. "She cheats on you. She uses you, Mark. You deserve better than that."  
Mark shrugged and looked into Roger's face. "I can't help it." he said. "I care for her. She'll come around one day. I know it."  
Roger patted Mark on the back. "I hope so." he said. "But I doubt it. I'm just looking out for you. Hey, why don't I ask April to hook you up with one of her friends? I'm sure she has knows some wholesome type girl you'd like."  
Mark laughed and stood up, shaking his head. He paused at the door and turned around.  
"Don't hit me again but... she really doesn't seem like your type." he said.  
Roger shrugged, indifferent.  
"Yeah? Well, Maureen doesn't really seem like your type."  
"Okay, touche." Mark said. "Good night, Roge."  
"Night, Mark."  
  
  
  
"Good morning, Mark."  
Mark staggered out of his bedroom. He put on his glasses with one hand and blinked up at the childish voice.  
"Hey April." he said in a hoarse voice. "What time is it?"  
April sat on the couch. Her legs were covered with a blanket. A large red book lay on her lap and she waved one small hand at him. He walked to the refrigerator and swung the door open.  
"Three AM." she said.   
He took out a small bottle of milk and flipped off the cap.  
"Aren't you up kind of early?" he asked, after taking a sip. "Is Roger still asleep?"  
Mark shuffled towards the couch, still holding the milk bottle in his hand. He sat down next to her.  
"Roger's still sleeping." she said quietly. Her large doe-like eyes were bright and wide awake. "I wanted to read a little bit but I didn't want to turn on the light. You know how he is with not being able to sleep with the light on."  
Mark nodded and smiled at her.  
It had been a month since Roger and April had started to see each other on a regular basis and she was already a fixture at their loft. Since Benny had moved out the week before, there was more space anyway. Maureen was barely home most of the time and Mark doubted if she even noticed April when she was there.  
Mark didn't mind April's presence.  
He liked her.  
She was one of the kindest people he knew. She had even begun to bring out the gentler side of Roger, something Mark rarely saw. When Roger was with her, the cold, hard edge that Mark had grown accustomed to seeing over the years melted away. He smiled more often. He laughed more.   
The difference in Roger was apparent to Mark's keen eye, if not to everyone else.  
"Nice shorts." April said, her smile growing wide.  
Mark looked down and blushed furiously. He had forgotten that he was wearing only a thin white shirt and bright yellow shorts.   
He crossed his arms over his thin chest and nodded at the book in her lap.   
"What's that?" he asked, trying to redirect her attention.  
She smiled and lowered her head. "It's a book of fairytales I've had since I was a kid." she said. She pushed the book towards him. "I never leave home without it."  
Mark put the bottle down on the floor and took the book carefully in his hands. The edges were frayed but the dark red leather cover was still in good condition. The gold edged pages were thin and Mark turned each one carefully.  
"It's beautiful." he said softly. He looked up at her. "How old were you when you got this?"  
"I was seven when my dad bought it for me. He used to read a story from it every night at bedtime. I guess I never really grew out of believing in them. I read it now whenever I get homesick."  
"You miss your home?"  
She nodded, placing her hand on the book. "Yeah. My entire family is still in Connecticut. I miss my mom, my dad... even my brother and my baby sister."  
"Sounds like you have the typical American family, including the two point five children."  
April smiled sweetly. "Yeah, I know, right? I love my family but I knew I couldn't stay home forever. Everyone supported me moving out. They didn't even complain when I told them I wanted to delay going to college. Actually... I don't plan on going at all."  
"Why don't you want to go to college?"  
She blushed and looked away. "I'm sure I won't get in anywhere. My grades in high school weren't good enough." she muttered. "But my parents never made me feel bad about it. They were always so supportive of me. It's funny though. I couldn't wait to leave home and get out into the real world. Now that I am in the real world, I wish I was home."  
She sighed and drew her knees up to her chest, hugging her legs tightly with her arms.  
"You're lucky, April." Mark said. "You're the most well adjusted one out of all of us here at the loft. I mean, I'm sure you know about Roger's childhood and..."  
April's face changed slightly making Mark wish he hadn't said anything.  
"Well adjusted is just another word for boring." she said stiffly. "And no, Roger hasn't told me about his childhood. He doesn't talk about his past."  
"Oh."  
"I figure he will when he wants to."  
"Yeah. Definitely."  
April stared at him. "So why are you up so early?" she asked. "Isn't Maureen going to get cold without your big, strong arms around her?"  
Mark coughed and looked down, blushing again. "She sleeps like a log actually. I was thirsty. And... I couldn't sleep."  
"Hence, the milk?"  
He nodded. "Hence the milk." He shrugged. "I guess I just can't turn off my brain sometimes."  
"Ah, you think too much." April said. She smiled at him. "The camera in your mind never stops filming, right?"  
"You could say that."  
She flipped open the book and turned a few pages. "Mark, if you can't sleep, I can read you a few stories. That always helps me nod off."  
He drew up his legs and she covered him with her blanket. She uncurled her legs and scooted over to him, sitting so close that Mark could feel her body warming his own.  
"Once upon a time..."  
"April?"  
She looked up at him, her brown eyes questioning. "Yeah?"  
"Do you really believe those stories?" he asked suddenly. "I mean, I know that's a weird question but..."  
She lowered the book and gazed at him intently. "Are you asking me if I believe in fairytales?"  
"Yeah."  
"Of course I do, Mark." she said simply. "Don't you?"  
"Not really." he said honestly.  
"Why not?"  
"I guess... with the way things are right now it's a little hard to believe in happily ever after."  
"Isn't that more reason to believe?"  
He stared at her, blinking in confusion.   
She went on.  
"Actually, I'm a little surprised that you don't believe in these stories."  
"Why?"  
"Because... you're a film maker. You're a modern day storyteller, Mark. I've read some of your scripts. Most of them end happily."  
Mark paused.   
He had never thought about it that way.   
April lowered her head again, ruffling the pages of her book and Mark studied her face. The light in the loft was dim but she seemed to radiate a luminosity of her own. Without the harsh makeup she wore when she went out to the clubs with Roger, she was childlike and innocent. Her pink lips were full and soft and Mark stared at her, trance-like, as she bit her lower lip.  
He suddenly found it hard to breathe.  
April looked up suddenly, feeling the tension in his body against her.  
"Mark, is something wrong?" she asked but before he could reply, Roger's door opened.  
"Hey babe, what are you doing out here?" Roger asked. He shuffled barefoot across the floor and kneeled down next to April. His eyes were swollen with sleep and he shivered as he wrapped his arms around her. "It's three thirty in the morning. Come back to bed."  
April looked at Mark and winked. She put down the book.  
"Sorry, I couldn't sleep." she said. "Besides, I was having a nice little chat with Mark."  
Roger blinked groggily at Mark and offered him a lopsided grin. "Hey, buddy. Sorry, but your quality time with my girlfriend is over. I'm taking her back to bed."  
Mark nodded and smiled weakly. He watched as Roger pressed his lips against her neck. April turned her head and they kissed.   
Mark looked away.  
Suddenly he felt sick to his stomach.  
Roger pulled away, still smiling, and helped April up to her feet. She held the book tightly in her hands. He wrapped his tan, muscled arms around her and kissed her forehead.   
"I'll see you later, Mark." Roger said, glancing back at him. "Go back to bed. It's cold out here."  
Mark watched as April and Roger walked back towards the bedroom and sighed when the door closed.  
He reached up and took off his glasses to rub his eyes.  
What the hell is wrong with me? Mark thought.   
He put his glasses back on and stared at his hands.   
What am I thinking?  
Why am I thinking what I'm thinking?  
I can't be thinking what I'm thinking.  
I can't be feeling what I'm feeling.  
Mark covered his face with his hands, trying to clear his mind. Suddenly he heard a door open again and light, rapid footsteps making their way towards him. He looked up to see April's face beaming down on him.  
She had her book in her hands.   
"April, what..."  
She leaned down, kissed him on his cheek and placed the book in his lap.   
"Page three forty two. It's my favorite one." she whispered. "Sleep tight, Mark."  
She turned around and dashed back into Roger's bedroom.  
Mark looked after her for awhile and then opened the book.  
He adjusted his glasses, drew the blanket tighter around him and flipped through a few pages before he found the story.  
"Once a upon a time..." 


	2. Ch. 2- Anything But the Truth

Disclaimer: Oops- nevermind. Might as well post this chapter up too. The usual stuff here- characters aren't mine, they belong to Jonathan Larson.   
  
Chapter 2: Anything But the Truth  
  
Mark turned over to his side and looked at Maureen's still face. Her eyes were lightly shut and her chest gently rose and fell with each breath.  
She looks so innocent when she's asleep, he thought.  
He slid his arm around her waist and pressed his face against her soft, blonde curls. It was the only time Mark could hold Maureen. When he tried to hold her during the day, she would give him a quick hug and then push him away from her as if he were a bother. But now, as she lay sleeping, he could hold her in his arms and pretend that his world was okay. He could pretend that she wasn't slowly slipping away from him.   
That she wasn't cheating on him with every other man in the city.  
He sighed and closed his eyes.  
You're all I have, he thought.   
Random thoughts crept into his mind as he began to lose consciousness. Faces and voices and ideas drifted in and out as he gradually fell asleep.   
I love you Maureen.  
Please don't hurt me anymore.  
I love you so much.  
I love you.  
April.  
Mark's eyes flew open and his arm jerked as if struck by a bolt.  
April.  
Maureen moaned and her eyes fluttered slightly. Mark held his breath and his body still, trying not to disturb her. He waited a few minutes before slipping his arm away from her and rolling onto his back.   
He stared at the ceiling in consternation.  
Shit Mark, you've got to stop thinking about her like that.  
She's Roger's girlfriend.  
He shut his eyes tightly and put his hand on his forehead, trying to force himself not to think about her. For the past five months, Mark had been with April almost every day. While Roger was away at practice, or out promoting his band, April would stay at the loft with Mark.   
It had gotten to the point where they had a routine all worked out. April would make breakfast for everyone and Mark would clean up afterwards. Then April would leave for work after Roger left and Mark would wait for her to get home. On the days when she left work early they would go for a walk in the city, giving Mark an opportunity to film. If she left late, then they would stay at the loft and work on Mark's scripts. He used to suggest, half-jokingly, that she should give up her apartment and move in with them.  
Mark opened his eyes and lowered his hand, blinking up at the ceiling.   
Sometimes Mark would stare at the front door long after Roger and April had left to go to one of his gigs. He would try to convince himself that the feelings he felt after they left were caused by the heaviness of the silence around him.   
He tried to convince himself that he felt sadness because Maureen was barely around anymore; that the jealousy he felt towards Roger was because of the success of his band.  
Anything but the truth.  
Mark sighed again.  
He closed his eyes, forcing all thought from his mind in an effort to fall asleep when he heard the front door open.  
And then a thud and laughter.  
"Roger, shhh!"  
A few more bumps and bangs and more laughter.  
"Roger, Mark and Maureen are probably asleep..."  
"So what!"  
Mark frowned and he sat up, being careful not wake Maureen. He grabbed his glasses from his desk and stood up. Lately Roger had been coming home intoxicated and Mark knew that April would need help getting him to bed.   
He swung his door open and blinked at the sudden exposure of light on his sensitive eyes.  
"Roger? April?"  
April looked up, her brown eyes wide and frustrated. Roger was leaning heavily on her, with one arm slung around her shoulders. He grinned up at Mark when he saw him.  
Mark stood still and stared at them.   
Something was strange about Roger.  
He wasn't just drunk.  
He was...  
"Mark, could you?" she asked.   
Mark hurried towards them, snapping out of his daze and slipped his arm around Roger's waist. Together, Mark and April walked Roger to his room, both struggling under the weight of his body. Roger's head rolled from side to side and he laughed as Mark dropped him down on his bed.   
Mark looked up at April. She didn't look back at him and he realized that her pale cheeks were shiny with tears.  
"April, what happened?"   
She sat down next to Roger and he laughed again. He shifted onto his side and tugged at April's arm.   
His blue eyes were dark and half closed as he reached up and pulled April down to him.  
"Come on babe." he said. His voice was low and hoarse and each word was pushed out with effort. "Relax. It's just this once.."  
Mark watched as she lowered her head and laid down beside Roger.   
"April..."  
"Mark, I left the front door open. Can you please close it?" she mumbled. Her eyes were focused on Roger's face and she held on to him tightly, like a child clutching at her mother. Roger shifted onto his back and his arm flopped down beside him, exposing his skin.  
Mark's eyes grew wide as he saw the small red mark on Roger's arm. He took a step forward and April shut her eyes, tightening her grip on Roger's black tee shirt.  
"April, what the hell is that?" he whispered. "What the hell did Roger do?"  
But she only ignored him.   
"April..."  
"Mark, leave me alone." she muttered.   
Roger's eyes opened and turned his head towards Mark. A wide, inane smile slowly slid across his face and waved his hand at Mark.   
"Yeah, Mark, loosen up." he said. "You're too fucking uptight. Leave her alone..."  
Mark took a step back and blinked. He suddenly realized that he hadn't smelled alcohol on Roger.   
He wasn't drunk.  
Not at all.  
It was something else.  
"April?" He said her name again, hoping she would look up at him but she only turned her face away.   
He wasn't going to get any answers from her.  
At least not tonight.  
He walked towards the door and took one look back at them on the bed.   
April's shoulders were trembling and she had opened her eyes. Tears slid down her face as she looked up at Roger with a mixture of fear, anger and love.   
Mark lowered his head and turned around, closing the door behind him.  
  
The next morning, Mark waited for April as he sat on the kitchen table.   
Maureen had already slipped out sometime during the early hours of dawn. He had woken up to find the other side of his bed empty and cold.   
He felt empty and cold.  
He wiped the lens of his camera with one end of his scarf and flicked a switch on and off. He had been sitting there for almost six hours and although it was past noon, neither Roger nor April had gotten up yet.  
He's using again, Mark thought.  
Fuck.  
How could he do this?  
Mark looked up at the sound of Roger's door opening and his eyes latched onto April's white face as she stepped outside. She quickly lowered her eyes when she saw him and walked towards the refrigerator.   
She was still wearing her clothes from the night before.  
"April."  
She brought out a bottle of water and twisted the cap open.   
Her brown eyes met his gaze nervously.  
"Are you hungry, Mark?" she asked, in a tense voice. "We have some eggs left. I could..."  
"Did he shoot up again last night?"  
An expression of shock flitted across her face.  
"Again?"  
Mark looked at her and nodded. She was so innocent. Although he wasn't that much older than her, he had seen and experienced so much more than she had. He sometimes forgot that along with her child-like qualities, she was incredibly naive.  
April looked down and ran her fingers through her hair. "He told me last night was the..."  
"First time?" Mark swung out his legs and hopped off of the table. He stood in front of her and studied her face. "You believe that?"  
She picked at the label on the bottle and shrugged. "Why shouldn't I?" she said quietly. "I love him. Why shouldn't I believe him?"  
Mark froze and blinked up at her.  
"You're... you're in love with Roger?" he asked, cringing at how pathetic he sounded.  
She laughed awkwardly and put the cap back on the bottle.   
"Isn't it obvious? I've only been hanging on his arm for the last five months."   
She turned her head away and bit her bottom lip. Mark's eyes traveled down from her face to her hands.   
She was shaking.   
"Did you...?" he began but then he stopped.   
April glared at him with her red rimmed eyes.  
"Did I shoot up? Of course I didn't, Mark." she asked angrily. She shoved the bottle onto his chest and he was barely able to catch it before it fell to the floor. She pulled up the sleeves of her shirt and showed him her pale, smooth bare arms.  
"I believe you, April." he said quietly. She crossed her arms and looked back down.  
"Look Mark, he said it would be the last time." she muttered.   
Mark shrugged and turned his back on her, walking towards his camera.  
"Who knows, maybe it will be." he said quietly. "But you have to know, this isn't the first time."  
"How many.. I mean, how long.. "  
He picked up his camera and stared at it. "On and off for the past year. I thought he had quit for good before he met you."  
He turned around and shook his head, realizing how his words might have sounded.  
"Oh God, April...that... that's not what I meant." he stammered. "I meant that before he met you, he.. "  
April stared at him, incredulous, with fresh tears in her eyes.   
"I told him not to." she said. Her voice was choked with emotion. "I told him I didn't want him to.. to do that. But there were too many people around. Everyone else was.... he just... How could you say..."  
"April, it's not your fault." he said firmly. "Look, Roger does what he wants to do. He won't listen to anyone once he has his mind set. You know that as well as I do. It's not your fault."  
He moved forward to touch her, to comfort her, but the sound of Roger's door opening made him stop.  
"Hey, what's going on?" Roger mumbled, rubbing his eyes. He ran his fingers through his hair and shuffled towards April. His eyes were bloodshot and watery. As Mark watched, Roger wrapped his arms around April and drew her against himself. "What are you doing out here?"  
April leaned her head against his chest and glanced at Mark. "Nothing." she said in a low voice. "I just got up to get a drink of water."  
Roger turned his head to look at Mark, as if noticing him for the first time.  
"Hey, you missed the best party last night. Kevin and Sandra had a..."  
Mark took a deep breath and forced himself to blurt out the words. "Roger, are you using again?"  
Roger's face twisted into an expression of irritation and disgust.   
"Oh Christ, Mark." he said. "Are we gonna have this talk again? I don't need you to be my goddamn babysitter!"  
Mark flinched and unconsciously drew back. "Last night when you came in... I saw your arm and..."  
Roger snorted and rolled his eyes. "So fucking what?" he said angrily. "Maybe if you'd come out with us once in awhile instead of planting your ass on that table, you'd finally have a little fun."  
"Shooting up isn't what I call fun, Roger."  
"Whatever Mark, I don't have time to deal with your shit."   
Roger turned back to April and pressed his face against her neck. "Come on baby, let's go back to bed." he said in a hoarse voice. "We have a gig tonight. I wanna get some more sleep..."  
"It's almost two o'clock, Roger." Mark said softly. "You've been asleep for almost ten hours."  
"Just shut the fuck up, Mark!" Roger screamed suddenly, looking up.   
April winced and closed her eyes. She turned her face away and Mark suddenly felt helpless watching them.   
"April, I..." Mark began but she opened her eyes and turned her face up to Roger.   
Roger smiled down at April and she smiled back.   
From his distance, Mark could see how forced her expression was.  
But Roger couldn't.  
He took her hand and threw Mark a threatening look before dragging her back into his bedroom.  
Mark stared at Roger's closed door for a long time, praying and hoping that it would open.  
After awhile, he wiped his tear streaked face with the back of his hand and turned away.  
  
"Pookie, we need to talk."  
Mark looked up from his notepad and shoved his glasses back up with one finger. He was sitting cross legged on the icy floor of the loft.  
He looked at Maureen.  
"Yeah? About what, Maureen?" he said softly, craning his neck. Maureen stood in front of him, her arms crossed and her pink lips set in a slight frown.   
"Mark, stand up."  
"I like it down here." he said, putting his notebook down. "It's cold. It keeps me awake and..."  
"Mark, stand up. I'm not sitting on the floor."  
He stood up without another word.   
I'm just a puppet on a string, he thought as she pulled him over to the kitchen table.  
"So... what's wrong?" he asked meekly when they sat down.   
"Mark, baby, you know I love you..." she began and Mark nodded.  
"Yeah, I know, Maureen." he said but his gloomy expression belied his words. He picked at a splintered corner of the table.  
"Mark, I can't live here anymore." she said quickly. "I'm moving out."  
Mark looked up in surprise and shock. He felt sick to his stomach.  
"Wh.. what?" he stammered, sitting up. "Why? Maureen, you can't! I mean...where will you live?"  
"Mark, I just put a down payment on an apartment a few days ago." she said. Her blue eyes seemed kind and apologetic. "I'm moving out this weekend."  
"What?" Mark felt as if the breath had been knocked out of him. "But Maureen, why? What did I do?"  
"It's not about you, Mark, you know that. Don't take it personally."  
"How could it not be about me?" Mark asked, feeling a chill run through him. "How can I not take it personally? Why? Why are you moving out?"  
"Because I can't take this shit with Roger anymore!" she cried out suddenly. "He always comes home at some Godforsaken hour, waking everyone in the loft up..."  
"It's just you and me, Maureen..."  
"And he scares me now, Mark. Last week was the last straw for me. I have to get out of here. And if you're smart, you'd move out too!"  
"Maureen, we have to help him, not run away from him!" Mark cried back.  
"Mark, last week he came home at five o'clock in the morning and almost broke this goddamn table!" she yelled, standing up. "He threw himself on it just because April asked him to be quiet! The week before that little incident, he kicked the door off of its hinges because he couldn't find the key! How can you stay here with him? How can you put up with his shit? How can you expect me to?"  
"Because he's your friend!" Mark screamed out, surprising himself. "And he's my bestfriend!"  
Maureen's mouth shut and she glared at him. "Of course, he's my friend, Mark. But I have my limits. I don't feel safe living here anymore."  
Mark drew his arms around himself and shivered. All the warmth had disappeared from his body and he felt numbed. He knew that what Maureen was saying was true. Roger had been using regularly for a month and it was hell for Mark.   
It was hell for everyone.   
"We have to help him, Maureen." Mark said quietly. He slumped down in his seat as she loomed over him. "We can't just abandon him."  
Maureen kneeled down before him and touched his knee tenderly. "Pookie, he needs more help than you can give him. Think about yourself for once. You always put Roger before yourself. This time, you can't carry his problems on your shoulders. He is beyond your help."  
Mark shook his head. "That's not true." he said. "I can reach him. I did it once. I can do it again."  
"Roger has April now, Mark. Let her take care of him."  
"April can't do it by herself."   
"Then let her take him to rehab or something!" Maureen said, exasperated. She pushed herself away from him and shook her head. "Let her worry about Roger from now on. Just get out of here before Roger does something to you."  
"You want me to leave the loft." Mark said dully. "And where would I go, Maureen? I know you don't want me to move in with you, right?"  
Maureen lowered her eyes and said nothing.  
"Don't use Roger as an excuse for moving out. You can't just find an apartment and move into it within a week." Mark said. He frowned at her. "You've been planning this for a long time, haven't you, Maureen?"  
She brought her eyes back up to his. "Mark, I need my space." she said quietly. "And this thing with Roger... I may have been planning to move out for awhile now but I'm not using Roger as an excuse. He truly frightens me."  
She gave a theatrical shiver and Mark sighed heavily. Maureen saw the look of resignation on his face and she put her hands over his, warming them.  
"You know I care for Roger. I just can't handle it anymore."  
"Okay."  
"I love you, Pookie."  
Mark stayed silent. He couldn't say the words back to her as he had a hundred times before.   
Maureen waited for him to say something and Mark turned his eyes away from her glare.  
"Fine, be like that, Mark." she snapped. She pushed away his hands and stood up. "But you know I'm right, Mark. You can't help him. He's too far gone to be helped just by you. Take care of yourself. Let April find some way to take care of him."  
Mark lifted his eyes to her and felt a rush of anger run through him. "But who's going to take care of April?"  
Maureen opened her mouth to say something and then snapped it shut. She stared at him with a strange glimmer in her eye.   
"I'll pretend I didn't hear that coming from my boyfriend's mouth." she said quietly. She buttoned up her jacket and walked towards the door. Mark watched her as she opened the door.  
"Where are you going?" he asked suddenly.   
"Don't worry about it, Mark."  
"Let me guess. Out for a night of general merriment? A fun night of inebriation? A night of fucking someone who isn't me?"  
Maureen stomped over to Mark and before he could react, her hand flew across his face.  
She had slapped him.  
Mark's head snapped to the side and his eyes burned with tears. He rubbed his face and whimpered.  
"Fuck you, Mark." Maureen said in a low voice. "That was low."  
Mark looked back at her and glared through his tears. "I know you're cheating on me, Maureen. I know. Pookie."  
"Do you want to end this?!" she screamed at him. "Do you want us to be over? Is that what you want, Mark? Because if it is..."  
"No." Mark said softly. He closed his eyes and lowered his head, sobbing. "You're the only one I have left, Maureen. The only one. I'm sorry. Sorry.. please don't leave me. Please..."  
I'm losing Roger.  
I'm losing April.  
I love her.  
I love April.  
Mark sobbed at the thought and let Maureen touch his face. He let her kiss his cheeks and run her fingers through his hair. He felt like clay in her hands as she slid her hands up, beneath his sweater. He kissed her back with shut eyes, pretending and dreaming, as she moved her hands over his body. Maureen knew what she doing. She knew Mark's body and how he responded to her touch. Mark let her stroke him, caress him and he moaned softly as she pressed herself against him.  
April.  
It was April who was touching him. It was April who took his glasses off and put them on the table. Who was whispering in his ear.  
"Mark, we're okay." Maureen whispered. "We'll work things out. We'll still be together even if I move out. We'll be okay."  
Mark kept his eyes shut and nodded. He felt her hands move down...   
No.  
He pushed himself away and the screech of the chair against the floor broke the heated silence of the loft. Maureen stared at him, open mouthed. He had never refused her before.  
Never once.  
"Not right now." he said breathlessly. "Not like this."  
They stared at each other, both of them not knowing what to do.   
Suddenly, the front door opened and April walked in. Maureen stood up, hastily brushing imaginary lint from her pants.  
"Well, Mark, I'll be going." Maureen said shortly. April looked over at them and took a step back.  
"I'm sorry." she said. "Did I interrupt you guys? I'll just go..."  
"No, it's okay, April." Maureen said, tossing her hair back. She smiled at April sweetly and walked past her to the door. Mark was amazed at how quickly she had composed herself. "I was just leaving anyway."  
April nodded and walked to the kitchen, turning her back on them. Mark knew she was trying to make herself as inconspicuous as possible. He stood up and shoved his glasses back on, walking towards Maureen.  
"Maureen, I'm sorry." he said weakly and she shrugged.  
"It's okay, Mark." she said. She reached up and ran a finger down his cheek. "Like I said, we'll be okay, Pookie."   
He saw a glimmer of compassion in her eyes as she looked at him.  
Maureen did love him, Mark knew that.   
But he knew that she didn't know how to love him.  
He knew that she didn't really know him at all.  
He leaned his forehead against the door when she closed it.   
Shit, he thought.  
What am I doing?   
Why did I push her away?  
He closed his eyes.  
Because I know she isn't the one I want.  
For the first time in his life, Mark knew exactly what he wanted.  
But he knew he couldn't have it.  
Her.  
Mark felt her cold hand on his cheek and he opened his eyes.  
"What happened to your face, Mark?"  
He stood up straight and faced her.  
"I, uh, I... fell." he said.   
April blinked, staring at him. She still wore her bookstore uniform and Mark noticed that it hung loosely on her now. Her apron strings were tied twice around her waist. Her face was tired and worn and her brown eyes were darkened by shadows. Her once lively, pretty hair now seemed limp and dry.  
She looked old.  
"You fell." she said quietly. "Okay, Mark. Sure."  
"You don't have to believe me."  
"I want to." she said. She drew her hand back and Mark felt a dull ache in his chest as she moved away. "Are you hungry, Mark? I mean, we're running a little low on food but I could still make something."  
"No. Are you?" he asked. He didn't feel like eating.  
She shook her head and sat down on a chair. Mark followed her, dragging the other chair next to her.  
"Is Roger home?" she asked, twirling a strand of hair with her finger. It was a nervous habit she had. Mark knew that.  
"No. He hasn't come home yet." Mark said. "He left around two hours ago. Maybe three."  
"It's getting dark outside." April muttered, more to herself than to him. "He should be home soon. He has a gig tonight."  
"Oh." Mark tapped his fingers on the table. "April, I've been meaning to ask you..."  
"So how's your film going?" she asked suddenly.  
Mark paused. "Uh, it's fine. Aside from a little writer's block, it's okay."   
"Really? How far along are you now?"  
He sighed. It was no use lying. "Okay, maybe it's not as okay as it should be." he muttered. "I just have other things on my mind right now. For example, you and..."  
"You know what, Mark?"  
"What?"  
"I think you should film without a script for once." she said. Her brown eyes suddenly came to life as she leaned forward and smiled at him. "You know, like how you filmed when we used to go on our walks? Instead of trying to write order into the world, just film it as it is."  
"And where did these words of wisdom come from?" he asked, smiling back.   
She shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. I just thought of it while I was at work." she said. "You know, gotta keep the mind busy."  
"Right." Mark said. "Listen, April, we need to talk abo.."  
"Mark, I'm tired." she said, leaning back. "Really tired. I know what you want to talk about and I just can't... not right now. Please?"  
Mark sighed and nodded. "Okay, but tomorrow...."  
"Tomorrow, I start at noon. I have some time in the morning."  
"Okay, April."  
"I think I'm going to lay down for a minute." April said. Her brown eyes grew dull again as she stood up. "It's been a long day...."  
She stood up and swayed.  
Mark caught her before she hit the floor.  
"Jesus Christ, April." Mark swore as he helped her back to her chair. "Are you okay? April?"  
She leaned forward on the table and placed her head in her arms.  
"I'm tired." she said. Her voice sounded muffled.  
"Have you eaten at all today?" Mark asked, not wanting to take his arm away from her. She seemed to have trouble staying on her chair.  
"I wasn't hungry." she mumbled. She closed her eyes and Mark shook her before she could fall asleep.  
"Okay, I'm taking you to bed." he said. He started to pull her up but she waved him away.  
"No, I don't want to go to Roger's room." she said. She propped herself up with her hands on the table and looked at him.   
She attempted to smile but the effort was wasted.  
"I'm just exhausted, Mark." she said. "There were almost a hundred customers per hour today and we were understaffed. I didn't have time to eat. Believe me."  
"I want to." he said, echoing her earlier words. She looked away and rubbed her eyes.  
"You have to lay down, at least." Mark said. She turned back to him with her red rimmed eyes. "You can crash on my bed."  
April stared at Mark long enough to make him blush and lower his eyes.   
"I mean, you know...just to take a nap." he muttered.  
"I know, Mark." she said. "Okay."  
He helped her to her feet and when he was sure she was able to walk by herself, Mark skipped ahead of her and opened his door.  
"It's a little messy." he said, blushing again as she walked inside. Mark's room was sparse. A large bed, a lamp, and a desk were the only items of furniture he had in his room. Some of Maureen's clothes were piled up on the desk but otherwise, his room looked as if it had been abandoned.  
April laid down on his bed and brought her knees up to her chest.   
"I hope Maureen won't mind." she said. She closed her eyes and yawned.  
Mark sat down on the edge of his bed and looked down. "She won't mind." he said softly. "April, Maureen's moving out."  
"Wake me up when Roger gets back." she muttered, not hearing Mark's words.  
"Okay."   
Mark watched her, waiting for her to say something else but soon he realized she had already fallen asleep. He stood up and unfolded the blanket at her feet. With swift, gentle movements, he covered her with the soft material and stepped back.  
April's hands were clenched into tight fists and her lips were pressed into a small grimace. It was obvious to him that she didn't sleep peacefully.   
He turned around and closed the door behind him.  
  
The next morning, Mark waited for April to wake up.  
He waited until the late afternoon sun filled the loft before he stood up and knocked lightly on Roger's door.  
He pressed his ear against it and closed his eyes.  
"Damn." he muttered.  
He opened the door and sighed heavily.  
The room was empty. 


	3. Ch. 3- Drowning

Disclaimer: This is a crappy chapter- yes, I know. I'm aware of it. I just needed a lead into the next few chapters, which get even more angsty-er (- not a real word, I know) but yah. Think of this chapter as a *filler* in the meantime. Heh. The usual stuff- characters not mine, they all belong to Jonathan Larson.  
  
  
  
Chapter 3- Drowning  
  
Tick.  
Tock.  
Tick.  
Tock.  
2:49 a.m.  
Mark blinked up at the ceiling, watching the blurry interplay between light and shadow on the cheap, cracked plaster. He had woken up from the now hazy nightmare that still left an imprint of dread heavy on his chest.   
The ticking of his clock was hypnotic.  
God, what was I dreaming about? he asked himself.  
I don't remember.  
It was bad though.  
Had he been drowning in his dream? He could faintly recall a sense of panic; the sound of his screaming and water splashing... but trying to remember it was like trying to grab at wisps of smoke.  
He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to force himself back to sleep.  
Sleep, dammit, he told himself, sleeping is better than laying here thinking about...  
About...  
Suddenly a loud hacking cough filled the loft and floated through the door of Mark's bedroom.  
His eyes flew open and for a moment, he lay there, not sure if he had fallen back into a strange dream.  
And then he heard the piercing cough again and knew for sure that he was awake.   
He sat up and fumbled for his glasses on the desk. As he moved towards the door, he ran his fingers through his hair in a weak attempt to smooth it down. He opened the door and frowned.  
The lights were still off and the only illumination in the room came from the flashing neon lights outside the window.   
He took a step outside and shivered as his bare feet touched the cold, cold floor.  
It was winter- no heat.  
He hugged himself and looked around for the source of the coughing.  
"Hello?" he said into the darkness. "April? Roger?"  
As if in reply another cough echoed through the loft and Mark moved towards the sound.  
A thin line of light outlined the slightly open bathroom door and he pushed it in with one hand.   
"April?"  
She was standing in front of the open medicine cabinet. At the sound of his voice, she jumped back in surprise and Mark held up his hands.  
"It's only me, April." he said. "Just Mark."  
She exhaled a shaky breath and gave him a weak smile.  
"Hey." she said. Her voice sounded hoarse and raw. "Do you need to use the bathroom, Mark?"  
He shook his head. "I heard you coughing."  
Her pale cheeks flushed momentarily and she leaned against the sink to face him.  
"Did I wake you up? I'm sorry."  
"No, you didn't wake me." he said. "How long have you been home? Where's Roger?"  
"Roger's still at the club."  
Mark looked at her clothing. Tight shirt, tight pants- the usual. Only now they were loose on her dreadfully gaunt body.  
"Oh."  
"I'm heading back out there soon. I just needed to pick up some medicine."  
"There wasn't a store near the club?"  
She blushed again and shrugged.   
"There was. Just no flow."  
"Oh."  
"Go back to sleep, Mark." she said, turning back towards the medicine cabinet. "Everything's okay out here."   
"I'm worried about you, April." he said softly. "You've had this cough for over a month."  
"It's winter." she said, sounding slightly annoyed. "Flu season. It's probably just some virus I picked up. I just need some medicine. I'll be fine."  
"Oh."  
"Go back to bed, Mark."  
Mark stayed silent.  
This strange, awkward interchange mirrored the past dozen conversations they had had in the months before. A cold veil had dropped between them as Roger moved deeper and deeper into the other world, a world that Mark couldn't, wouldn't follow him into.  
But with Roger went April.  
Hand in hand.  
Mark knew that she would follow Roger wherever he led her because...  
Because she loves him, Mark thought grimly.  
And he was well acquainted with that kind of love- that hard, longing, hopeless, angry love.  
He knew how strong and powerful its hold was.  
He felt it each time he thought of her, which was often.  
Her.  
She was changing before Mark's eyes.  
Each morning when she walked through the door, helping in a stumbling, fucked up Roger, Mark studied her arms, fearing the day when he would find that one red mark. That one small crimson mark that would signify the beginning of the end of everything he loved about her.   
But each morning, her arms remained clear.  
No, the change in her was more profound, deeper and darker than the change in his bestfriend. She rarely truly smiled anymore. Instead, she would offer a small tight-lipped turn of her mouth- an ugly caricature of a smile. She was colder. Short-tempered. Defensive. Cruel.  
But sometimes... sometimes Mark caught glimpses of the real April. Sometimes she would look back at him before walking out the door with Roger and her brown eyes would soften for a moment. Sometimes she would make him tea when he came home after a long day of walking around the city, trying and failing to get a film accepted, placing the hot cup in his hands and smiling slightly. Sometimes she would reach out to him when they were alone and touch the back of his hand while he was writing in his notebook. Those times, he would look up to find her looking at him with a mixture of confusion and despair and he would ask her what was wrong although he already knew. And always the answer was "Nothing. Nevermind." thrown at him as she drew back her hand and walked away.   
Those glimpses, those rare moments that Mark replayed over and over in his mind were becoming fewer and fewer as the days passed.  
And Roger.... a raging guilt would wash over Mark each time he thought about Roger. He was watching his bestfriend slowly destroy himself and he was powerless to stop it. Each time he tried to talk to Roger, to reach out to him, he would get shoved back or screamed at until Mark was reduced to a sobbing mess, cowering at his feet.   
But that was only one side of his guilt.  
Mark knew what he was. What else do you call a friend who loves his bestfriend's girlfriend?  
Betrayer.  
He was undeserving of any goodness or joy in life.  
And so the daily dance of guilt in his mind would begin anew each day, plaguing Mark, causing him to pull away from the world and become nothing more than a bystander, a watcher, an observer.   
A nothing.  
He stared at April.  
"Is this stuff still good?" April asked, staring at the dark bottle she had picked out of the cabinet. She was unaware of the scrutiny she was under.  
Her cheeks were sunken in and her skin was pale and unhealthy looking. Her shoulders were like sharp angles beneath the thin material of her shirt and her arms looked fragile and breakable. She looked so young and vulnerable that it made Mark's chest ache.  
"Shit. The expiration date says November 12th. Goddammit."  
"April, you're so thin."  
Her dark eyes flew to his face and he saw a faint glimmer of embarrassment in their depths. She looked away and closed the cabinet, placing the bottle carefully on the sink.  
"It's just stress, Mark." she said defensively. She looked at his reflection in the mirror.   
"Besides, you shouldn't be the one to talk."  
Mark looked at his own gaunt reflection and blushed. He stepped back away from the mirror and stood at the doorframe. He knew what she meant. His eyes were haunted by the same shadows that darkened hers.  
"April, you need to see a doctor." he said. "I think you need to..."  
She slammed her hands on the edge of the sink and glared at him.  
"Don't tell me what you think I need to do, Mark." she snapped. "I already went to the clinic. Yesterday. So you can just drop the Dear Abby act."   
Mark's eyes widened at her sudden outburst.  
"I'm just trying to help you..."  
Her features twisted up into an eerily familiar expression and Mark felt a chill run through him at the sight of Roger's fury in her face.  
"Well, I don't need your help! I can take care of myself!"  
Roger's words.  
She tried to walk past him but he stopped her.  
"No you can't, April." he said quietly. "Look at yourself."  
She jerked her arm back from his weak grasp and looked at him as if he were crazy.  
"I'm not some stupid little kid." she said. "I'm nineteen years old..."  
He couldn't stop the laugh that escaped his lips nor could he stop the cruel flow of words that came out next. Something had snapped in him now and it came rushing out, no longer willing to stay locked up and pushed down.  
"You are a kid!" he cried out. "You're a nineteen year old little girl who still believes in fairytales, for Godsake!"  
"I'm an adult!" she screamed.  
"Oh yeah? If you're such a fucking adult then why can't you stop Roger from..."  
He regretted saying it as soon as he had uttered the words and he shook his head in horror.  
"April, I didn't mean that." Mark said. He took a step forward and she stumbled backwards, trying to keep distance between them.  
"God, April, you know I would never blame you for..."  
"You're a hypocrite, Mark!" she shot out suddenly. "You're his bestfriend and all you do is watch him and pass judgment on him from your almighty throne on that table! What's your excuse for turning your back on him?"  
Mark took in a sharp breath and let it out slowly.  
"I haven't turned my back on him." he said.  
"Whatever, Mark." she said. "If that's what you need to tell yourself, then fine. But remember which one of us is out there with him every night, to make sure he gets home safe, to make sure he doesn't overdose.."  
"And I guess you shoot up for him too, when he's too drunk or too fucked up to do it himself. You're helping him kill himself! So if you want to look for the hypocrite, don't point your finger at me! Look in the mirror!"  
They stood there, looking at each other in stunned silence.  
The outrage in her eyes made him want to shrink, made him want to tear into his chest and rip out his heart to erase the pain that her eyes, that look, was filled with.  
God, why the fuck did I say those things? he thought wildly.  
What the fuck is wrong with me?  
But he knew.  
Deep down inside, he wanted to hurt someone just as much as he had been hurting all along.  
The words he said seemed to come out in a torrent- all the anger, hurt and resentment that he pushed down for almost a year had gushed out of him and found their target in April.   
"Mark." She said his name in disbelief, shivering.  
She stepped back again and the shadows from the loft seemed to crawl up behind her, enveloping her in the darkness. The dim light seemed to emphasize the hollowness of her features and her brown eyes grew large in shock.  
God, I'm no better than Roger, he thought, miserable.  
How could I...  
Why did I...  
To her?  
"April, I... I'm so.. I'm sorry."  
She stared at him as if he were a stranger.  
"I'm so, so sorry." he whimpered. "I don't know why I... you know, I don't believe any of that. I just... I feel so...Oh God, April, I'm sorry."  
He walked towards her and she kept walking backwards away from him until she hit the edge of the table with her hip. She gasped and looked back in surprise.  
Mark crossed the distance between them and pulled her into a tight embrace.  
At first she struggled, fought against him but he held on to her tightly until she lay quiet and limp in his arms.   
He clutched her desperately, whispering apologies over and over again until his words melted into a low, mumbled chant. He didn't know how long he stood there, holding her, but he didn't dare let go- even when his arms grew numb and weary by the effort of keeping her from pushing him away.   
And then, after awhile he felt her hot breath on his neck, her warm tears sliding down to the fabric of his shirt and then heard her quiet, soft voice in his ear.  
"It's okay, Mark."  
He couldn't speak. He was too tired to speak, too tired to move.   
"Mark, let me go. It's okay."  
He felt her hands on his chest, gently pushing him away from her. His arms dropped to his side and he looked at her meekly. Her face was tired and etched with weariness as she looked back at him but her eyes were warm despite the sadness he saw in their depths.   
"Go to back to bed, Mark. You need your rest."  
He could have laughed at the irony of it. He shook his head.  
"No, I want to stay out here with you." he said. "Please?"  
The sadness in her eyes spread to her features and she shook her head.  
"I'm going out, Mark. Remember? I have to go back to make sure Roger's okay."  
"Then I'll go with you."  
"No." She wiped her face again and then wiped her hands on her pants. When she began to move towards the door, Mark grabbed her hand and shook his head. He knew how pathetic he was but he didn't care.  
"No, April, don't go. Just stay? Please? One night? Just stay home." He tried to control the quiver in his voice, tried to blink back the fresh tears that had gathered in his eyes but to no avail.   
"Mark, don't do this...."  
"Please, don't go. Just this once? I... I can go get Roger and take him home. I don't care what it takes, I'll get him and you can just stay here and when we get back, I can.."  
She slowly undid the tight grasp that his hand had on hers and pushed him back when he tried to move towards her again.  
"Mark, you can't come with me." she said. "I won't let you."   
The tone of her voice told him that there was no point in begging or pleading anymore. He watched helplessly as she turned and walked away from him, opening the door and then raising her head to look at him one last time. She opened her mouth and then closed it again, changing her mind.   
No goodbye, no wave of her hand or even a faked smile as she closed the door behind her.  
Mark stood in the dark, the last player on an abandoned stage. For a moment, he thought about running after her and then decided against it. He was too exhausted to think anymore. He turned around and walked back to his room. He crawled into his bed, shivering, and he curled himself up into a ball on the cold hard mattress. As he drifted closer and closer to unconsciousness, he suddenly remembered the dream- the elusive nightmare from before.  
He had been in a boat and April and Roger were drowning.  
Both of had been screaming, struggling, crying out for him to pull them up from the black churning waters that swelled up past their gasping mouths and threatened to overwhelm them.  
Mark was torn. He tried to grab them both, trying to save them both at the same time but he was too weak. He could only save one of them and his heart wrenched with the agony of trying to pick.  
Which one?  
"I can't!" he had screamed at both of them. "I can't pick!"  
He had woken up at the moment he made his decision.  
He had jumped into the waters with them.  
  
  
  
The next day, Mark adjusted the old roll of film on the projector and then aimed the lens at his stark, white wall.   
He sat down on the cold floor and turned the machine on.  
And he watched.  
The wall flickered to life.  
  
Roger, laughing.   
The early spring sun shines down on his dark blonde hair.  
His blue eyes twinkle mischievously.  
He looks healthy.  
He is sitting on the couch, holding his guitar, making faces at the camera.   
He twists around in his seat, searching for something to throw at Mark.   
He finds an old, gray sock and he holds it up, laughing.  
"Better watch out, Cohen, or you'll be wearing this sock on your head!"  
"You have the worst aim, Roger. Just try it!"   
More laughter.  
The picture goes out of focus, waving wildly up and down for a few seconds and then.... a shriek of protest.  
"Oh God, gross!"  
The shot comes back into focus and it follows April as she walks through the door, holding a bag of groceries in her arms.   
The sock is now on top of the bag and April throws a mock glare at the camera.  
"Mark, get this stinky old thing off of the bag or else I'll..."  
Zoom in on April's face.  
She tries to hide the smile that is forming on her lips.  
"Or else you'll what? Throw a tomato at me? A carton of milk?"  
She drops the bag on the table and pushes her shiny brown hair behind her shoulders.  
Her bright eyes laugh at the camera and her full cheeks grow pink as a slow smile spreads across her lips.  
"Don't make me tickle you, Mark." she says, pushing up the sleeves of her sweatshirt.  
"No!" Mark cries from behind the camera.  
"Yes!" she says, grinning mischievously at the camera.   
"Go get him, April!"  
"I know where you're ticklish, Mark!"  
"No!"  
"Roger, hold him down!"  
The shot jumps up, down and sideways and Mark's hysterical laughter fills the air as April's hands find their mark.   
Suddenly the viewpoint of the shot changes.  
Now Mark is on the floor, laughing helplessly as April pulls up his sweater and tickles his bare stomach.  
"Stop.....it!" Mark screams breathlessly and April shakes her head at him, laughing.  
"You're gonna kill him, babe."   
Roger laughs as the shot zooms in on her face.  
She winks at the camera and grins.  
"That's the idea, Roge!"  
As the two figures fight and giggle onscreen, Roger's deep voice whispers into the camera, like the quiet voice of God.  
"Look at them. Mark and April. My two bestfriends. The two people I love beyond anything else in this world. God, I don't know if my life can get any better than this. I don't think it can. This is it for me. This is perfection."  
  
The picture turned black.  
And then...  
  
"God, Roger, you can't just leave these things lying around!"  
April, standing in the kitchen.  
In her hand is an empty syringe.  
"Christ, shut up, April! Get off my goddamn back!"  
Roger, his back to her, sitting on the table.   
His hands plunged into his hair and his elbows rest on his knees.  
His guitar is on the table behind him.  
"This is third time I've pricked myself on one of these things and..."  
"Shut the fuck up, April!"   
Zoom in on April's face.   
Her eyes fill with tears.  
Zoom out.  
She throws the syringe into the garbage pail underneath the sink.   
She wipes her face with the back of her hand and walks towards Roger.  
"I just want to help you, Roger."  
He raises his head and drops his arms.  
Zoom in on the track marks littering the dark flesh of his arm.  
Zoom out.  
Roger stands up.  
"I don't need your fucking help! What I need you to do is to just shut the fuck up for one second!"  
"Roger..."  
"Just shut up, bitch!"   
April takes a step back.  
The hurt in her face is indescribable.  
"Oh God, April, I'm sorry."  
Roger's eyes fill with tears as he moves towards her.  
She takes another step back as he tries to grab her.  
"Baby, I'm sorry, I didn't mean...."  
She turns around and runs out the door, slamming it shut behind her.  
"Fuck!"  
The picture moves backwards and then a loud crash is heard.  
"Shit." Mark swears from behind the camera.  
Roger whirls around.  
He glares at the camera, furious, and stomps towards it.  
"Fucking bastard, turn that shit off! You fucking little sneak!"  
Another crash and then the shot spins wildly out of control.  
Fade to black.  
  
Mark didn't jump when the roll of film whirled off the projector. He was sobbing too loudly to even notice it. He squeezed his eyes, trying to stop the flow of tears but they came relentlessly down his face. He clutched his stomach in agony, feeling a tidal wave of pain and despair wash over him. He fell to his side and drew his legs up to his chest and cried into his hands. After a few minutes, his chest started to hurt and he gasped for air.   
He knew what he had to do.  
He got onto his hands and knees and grabbed the bed for support. He pulled himself onto the mattress and grabbed the phone. He had put it there earlier, already deciding on his actions. He just needed this one last push, this one last vision of what his world was and what his world had become.  
He dialed, inhaling deeply to control his frantic breathing as he waited for someone to pick up the phone.  
Finally, someone did.  
"Hello, Department of Computer Sciences, MIT. How can I help you?"  
Mark cleared his throat and struggled to sound normal.  
"Can I speak to Tom Collins? This is an emergency." 


	4. Ch. 4- Promises, promises

Disclaimer: They don't belong to me. Duh. And this is another long winded crappy chapter in which nothing much happens. But the next chapter will have a few kicks, I *promise*... and uh, gee, I wonder what April is hiding from Mark? Hmmm...  
  
Chapter 4- Promises, promises  
  
"He's using again."   
Mark looked up at man sitting across from him.   
"And this time, it's worse."  
Collins frowned and shook his head.   
"Are you sure?" he asked quietly. His warm liquid eyes poured sympathy into Mark's soul and Mark felt the heavy weight that had been on his heart lift momentarily. He had missed the comforting presence of his old friend, the stability of his love and friendship had been gone too long and now Mark clung to the desperate hope that Collins could fix everything that was broken in their lives.  
Roger.  
April.  
Mark.  
Mark nodded and stared down at the cup of steaming hot tea on the table in front of him.  
"I'm sure."   
The two men sat silently in their booth at the Life Cafe, thinking.   
More than a week had passed since Mark made the fateful call to Collins, begging him to come home. Because it was nearly Christmas, Collins had had trouble finding a flight back and Mark had spent the days waiting for his friend in tense anticipation.   
Outside, the light winter snow fell upon the streets of New York, coating it in a pretty white blanket that belied the dirt and filth that lay beneath it. Mark's camera lay next to his hand, cold and unused for the past week. He couldn't find it in his heart to even raise the camera up to his eye but he took it with him wherever he went, as if it were a security blanket.  
"It's ten times worse." Mark said softly, finally breaking the silence. "It doesn't even seem like he's Roger anymore. It's like he's... possessed. He's like a vampire. He only comes out at night and sleeps during the day. He's lost so much weight and.. and everytime I try to talk to him, he ends up screaming at me..."  
Mark's voice began to grow louder as he grew agitated.  
"I can see the track marks on him from across the room, Collins. How sick am I? That I notice his fucking track marks? That I try to keep count of them to make sure that..."   
A few customers nearby stopped talking to each other and raised their eyes towards their booth.  
Mark blinked back his tears and Collins leaned across the table and placed his large, comforting hand on his shoulder.  
"Mark, you're not alone in this, okay?" Collins said soothingly. "I'm here for you. We're all here for you and we'll all help Roger though this. I promise."  
Mark shook his head and curled his hands up into tight fists.   
"No, that's not true." he said, pushing down the next sob that threatened to explode out of him. "Benny's gone God knows where and Maureen... she doesn't care about Roger. Not really. She moved out two months ago to get away from me and him."  
Tears slid down his cheeks as he lowered his head.   
"And April.. God, Collins, April just... It's killing her. Everyday she dies just a little bit more and... She's actually there when he..."  
"Who's April?" Collins asked.  
Mark looked up and frowned.   
And then he exhaled loudly.   
"That's right, you don't know about April." he said in a shaky voice. "April is Roger's girlfriend. They've been together since May of this year. She practically lives with us now."  
"Is she an addict too?" Collins asked.  
Mark shook his head vigorously.   
"No." he said firmly. "April's not like that. She's... She just wouldn't do that."  
"Are you sure?"  
"Yes" Mark said. He grabbed the hot cup in front of him with his cold hands for warmth. "April. God. I don't know why she just doesn't leave... Sometimes I wish she would even though I'd... She doesn't deserve this, this life."  
Collins stared at him.   
"Neither do you, Mark." he said quietly. "You do know that, don't you?"  
Mark lowered his head.  
"Mark?"  
"I don't know what I deserve anymore." Mark said, staring down at his hands. "Maybe this is what I get for feeling... I don't know. Maybe the people I love are being punished for something I did. I've already lost Maureen- it's just a matter of time before she breaks up with me. I'm losing Roger and... April... I never even... I don't know, Collins. I don't know what to do."  
He looked up at Collins and shrugged helplessly.  
"Please... tell me what to do to fix this." he begged suddenly. "I'll do anything. Tell me what to do to make Roger quit for good. Tell me what to do because I don't know anything anymore. Please, Collins?"  
Collins shook his head sadly.   
"Mark, I'm not God." he said gently. "I can't make miracles happen. But I can try to help."  
Mark nodded, blinking back the tears that had returned to his eyes.   
"I should have come back sooner." Collins said, more to himself than to Mark. "I should have never left New York at all."  
"I should have called you sooner."  
"Why didn't you? You know I would have come as soon as I knew.."  
"Because..."  
Mark shrugged and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. He took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly.  
"Because you have enough to worry about yourself. I didn't want to make your life worse by telling you." he said finally. "And this isn't your fault."  
"It's not yours either." Collins said. "Mark? Look at me. You have to believe that."  
Mark raised his eyes and shrugged.  
"Does it matter what I believe?" Mark asked dully. "I have to help him, Collins. That's all that matters."  
Collins leaned forward and stared at Mark.   
"Then we'll help him. All of us."  
  
  
Two hours later Mark was back at the loft, sitting cross legged on the table with the phone to his ear.   
Come on, Maureen, pick up, he thought, feeling his heart racing in his chest.  
It had been two weeks since he'd seen or heard from her and he knew that their time together was basically at an end. Whatever facade she put on when she saw him wasn't enough to convince Mark anymore. Their relationship was working on borrowed time.  
Mark knew it.   
But he had other things, other people, to worry about.  
Still.... that didn't make it hurt any less.  
"Hi, you've reached Maureen Johnson's residence...."  
Mark cursed but waited patiently for the beep of the answering machine. This was important.  
When it finally came, Mark closed his eyes and spoke into the phone.  
"Hey Maureen... it's Mark." he said. "I know you probably don't want to hear from me but it's really important that you call me back. Collins is back in town and he..."  
"Hello?" Maureen sounded breathless on the other line. Mark frowned.  
"Maureen? I thought you weren't home."  
"Mark! Baby, I was in the shower. Thank God I made it out here in time." she said with a carefree laugh.  
"Collins is back in town? That's great! Let's have lunch with him tomorrow and catch..."  
"Maureen, he came back for Roger." Mark said. "I called him and told him what was happening."  
"Oh?"  
"Yeah."  
"What'd he say?"  
"He said... well, he wants us to do an intervention for Roger. Try to convince him to get into rehab. I want you to be there because...."  
Maureen sighed. "Christ Mark, you know Roger's never done anything anyone's told him to do...."  
"That doesn't mean we shouldn't try to help him....."  
"...Mark, sweetie, just move out and let April handle her own shit. This is her problem now, not yours..."  
"He's my bestfriend..."  
"And what's he ever done for you, Mark? I mean, so he's beaten up a few guys because they made fun of you back in high school. Big fucking deal. You're both adults now and whatever consequences Roger has to face is his own fault."  
"God, Maureen, how selfish can you be?" Mark said, feeling his temper rise. "Roger was the one who convinced Benny to let you stay with us when you got kicked out of your house. He put up with your crap even though he could've just kicked you out..."  
"He didn't do it because he was a nice guy, he did it because you asked him to!"  
"Exactly!" Mark cried out. "Because I was his bestfriend and he knew how important it was to me for you to stay. I'm not going to turn my back on him now when he needs me the most and if you don't want to help him then fine. I should have never asked you."  
"Dammit, Mark! Don't play this guilt bullshit with me!" Maureen screamed.  
Mark closed his eyes. He softly exhaled the breath he had been holding unconsciously and forced himself to breathe.  
"You're right. I'm sorry." he said quietly. "I'm sorry, Maureen. I...I'll call you back later."  
"No, wait, Mark." She sounded contrite and sad. "I'm sorry too. I know how much you love him and... I just don't want to see you get hurt if he doesn't quit using. I don't want you to feel like it's your fault if things don't get better. You're a good person. A good friend. More than Roger deserves."  
Mark pressed his hands to his eyes as if he were trying to physically push back the tears that had gathered there.   
"I care about you, Mark. I really do. And.. if it really means that much to you, then I'll go. Just tell me when."   
"Thanks, Maureen." he said quietly.   
"Mark, I do care about you. You know that, right?" she said after awhile. "It's just that... well, I've been busy lately and I promise you, when things settle down, things between us will be better, okay Pookie?"  
"I know."  
"Good." she said, sounding happy again. "Call me when everything's set. I'll come."  
"Okay."  
"I love you."   
She hung up before he could respond.   
Mark put the phone back down on the receiver and stared at it.   
God, when did things get so complicated? he thought.  
When Roger started using again.  
No.   
Even before that.  
Mark picked up his camera and stared at the black, gaping hole of the lens. A chaotic haze of contradicting emotions filled his mind as he stared down into the black depths of his camera. He flicked it on with one finger and held it up to his face.  
"Roger's sick." he said. "And I have to help him. It's that simple."  
He sighed and then shook his head.  
"No, I'm lying. It's not that simple. Who am I trying to help, really? Be honest with yourself, Mark. Who is it I'm really trying to save here? Roger? Myself? Or is it her? April. And it's not like she'll come running to me when he gets better because she loves him. God, she loves him and whatever he does to himself, he does to her. And whatever she feels, I feel. And this whole thing with Maureen... it's only a matter of time before she cuts me loose. I used to worship the ground she walked on and now I... I don't know what I'm trying to say anymore."  
He lowered his camera and then closed his eyes. After a minutes, he opened them again and raised the camera back up to his face.  
"It's a sad fucking triangle I've gotten myself into. Sometimes I wonder if things would have been different if Roger had never met.... or if I had met her first...."  
He shook his head again  
"The sick truth is this- he's my bestfriend and he needs my help. That should be the only thing that's pushing me right now but it's not. It's just... not."  
Suddenly Mark heard a loud thump outside the loft door.  
He looked up in time to see the door swing open and April stumbling through the doorway. She was horribly pale and her eyes were blank and glassy. She had a strange dazed look on her face.   
Mark put his camera down and rushed towards her.   
She looked as if she were going to pass out.  
"Oh my God, April!" he exclaimed. He grabbed her waist and she fell against him heavily, as if she had no more strength to keep herself upright. He half pulled, half carried her to the couch and set her down. He kneeled down in front of her and grabbed her ice cold hands, rubbing them between his palms to warm them up.  
"April, what happened?" he asked. "Did you walk through the snow without a coat? Jesus Christ, April, you're freezing. What happened?"  
She opened her mouth to talk but only a small, stifled whimper came out. She pulled her hands back from Mark and covered her face. Mark looked up at her, feeling powerless and confused. His eyes traveled down from her brown hair which was getting damp from melting snowflakes, to her hands and then to her bag which lay half open next to her.   
Sticking out of the front pocket was a white peice of paper. Mark narrowed his eyes and tried to read the header.  
... Pharmacy prescription...results for Dylan, April...positi...  
"April, what's that?" he asked softly, reaching for it. "Are you sick?"  
April raised her head and then moved back violently, pushing Mark's hand away from her bag.  
"God, Mark, don't touch that!" she cried out. Mark stared at her as she stuffed the peice of paper further into her bag. "That's none of your business!"   
"I..I'm sorry." Mark stuttered. He looked up at her face. "April, what happened?"  
She opened her mouth and then closed it again, looking around the loft like a lost child.   
"Where's Roger?" she asked in a small voice.   
"I don't know, April." Mark said as she searched the room with her frantic gaze. "You would know better than me."  
"I have to talk to him."  
"About what?" Mark asked.   
April's eyes finally settled on Mark's face. A look of pure misery swept across her face and she lowered her head.  
"Nothing." she said quietly.  
"April, you can tell me anything, you know that." Mark said earnestly.   
"I know, Mark." she said in a voice that was barely above a whisper. She stared at her hands. "But this time... this is just between Roger and me."  
Though he was hurt, Mark nodded. "I understand."   
Her head jerked up and she stared into his eyes.   
"No you don't, Mark." she said bitterly. "You don't understand. Roger has... he... I..."  
She hugged herself, shivering and began to rock back and forth on the couch. The glassy, blank look crept back into her eyes and Mark reached up and grabbed her shoulders with both hands.   
"April, listen to me." he said, trying to control his voice from showing the fear he felt. "April!"  
She stopped rocking and turned her blank eyes towards him.  
"April, I called a good friend of mine about a week ago." Mark said. "He's a good friend of Roger's too. I told him about Roger's problem and he came back here to help him. He says the best thing we can do is to set up an intervention for him. Do you know what that is?"  
She shook her head slowly.  
"It's when close friends and family gather together to tell someone they love that they need help." Mark said. His words tumbled out of his mouth at a rushed speed. "April, we're going to do this for Roger, okay? We're going to get Roger the help he needs, okay? It may take a few weeks for me to get things set up but I promise you, Roger will be okay. Everything will get better. I'll fix things for you, April, I promise. I promise I'll make things like they were before. You'll be happy again. I promise."  
April looked away from Mark and a slow, strange smile touched her lips.   
"Things will never be the same again, Mark." she said softly. "I'll never be happy again and nothing you can do will change that."  
Mark shivered at how sure she sounded. He unwrapped his scarf from around his neck and wrapped it around her hands.   
"Here." he said, getting up. "Keep this on while I get you a sweater. And then I'm going to make you something eat, okay? Just stay here."  
He walked quickly to Roger's bedroom and opened the door. He hesitated and then walked in. The room was like a cave, dark and cold. The bed was unmade and most of Roger's clothes were on the floor next to the bed. Mark stared at them for a minute, trying to see if any of April's clothes were in the pile. After a few seconds, he went to the closet and opened it. April's clothes were in there, neatly hung and folded. He grabbed a thick looking sweater from a hanger and turned around when something on Roger's nightstand caught his eye.   
It was a syringe.   
For a moment, Mark stared at it as if he were in a trance. The tip of the needle seemed to gleam in the absence of light and for a moment, Mark wondered what it would be like if he picked it up and....  
Shit, don't scare yourself Cohen, Mark thought, shaking his head. He jumped over the pile of Roger's clothes and walked out into the loft.  
"April?"   
She wasn't on the couch where he had left her. He hurried to where she had been sitting and found his scarf on the armrest. He looked up to the door and saw that it was still slightly open. He sighed and walked over to close it. As he turned around, he noticed that the red light on his camera was still on.   
Mark frowned and picked it up.   
Had he captured April and himself on film accidently?  
With rapid movements, he took out the roll of film and half walked, half ran to his room. He placed the roll on his projector, rewound it, and then aimed it at the blank wall.   
At first his face filled up the space and Mark quickly looked away. He turned the sound off before he could hear his own voice.   
Finally, April's slight figure appeared on the wall and Mark looked up to study her.   
With the sound still off, he watched transfixed as he watched himself help April to the couch. Because no one had been behind the camera at the time, the picture was at a weird slight angle. He watched April's face as she spoke, her lips mouthing unheard words. He noticed how puffy and red her eyes were and how she seemed to be whiter than the snow that fell outside the window. Finally, Mark left and April was left sitting on the couch with his scarf still wrapped around her hands.   
She looked up and then pulled his scarf off of her hands.   
She stood up and then took one step towards where Mark had gone but stopped.  
For a minute, she looked after him and Mark watched her expression change from fear to sadness. She pulled out the peice of paper from her purse, looked down at it and then closed her eyes. After a few seconds, she opened them again with a grim look on her face. She stuffed the paper back in her bag and then hurried towards the door and out of the frame. Mark rewound the film to the point where she had gotten up from the couch.  
He paused it and then stared at her face.  
She looked like a deer trapped in the headlights of an oncoming car- terrified and helpless.   
Desperate.  
"What are you hiding from me, April?" he said, unaware that he was speaking outloud. "God, April just tell me. I'd do anything to make things better for you. I'll help him and you. I promise. Everything will be better. You and Roger will live happily ever after... even if it means that I'll be alone, as long as you're happy.... it doesn't matter how."  
Mark hung his head. 


	5. Ch. 5- Intervention

Disclaimer and A/N: None of the characters are mine. Nope. Not even one.   
I think we all know what April's hiding. My whole thing with writing this story is that it's from Mark's point of view- no one else's. He wouldn't know about April's diagnosis yet and Roger basically has a smaller part in this story. Um, what else should I note... oh yeah, I hope I'm making it obvious (agh, I'm such a bad writer) but April isn't taking her medication. =/   
I have no clue what goes on in a real intervention. Most of the first part of this chapter came from www.intervention.com. I must give them (the author, at least) credit for the poetic way they describe interventions.  
  
Chapter 5- Intervention  
  
"Think of a family's interactions as a well choreographed dance. Everything they do and say to each other has been perfected by hours of rehearsal. Each member recognizes their cues and executes their steps without thinking - day after day after day."  
  
"Imagine the dancers circling around one member's addiction. Everyone knows the moves by heart, even the addict. And although everyone hates the dance, no one can imagine how to stop doing what they are doing. In fact wanting to stop has become a part of the dance. Guilt and suffering are also written in. The family could go on like this forever."  
  
"An intervention is a controlled or choreographed crisis. The dance, business-as-usual behavior of the addict and family, is stopped for a long enough time to get everyone's attention."   
  
"One day a group of the dancers stand still when they would normally being turning somersaults. At that moment everything changes in the family."  
  
The counselor leaned forward and set her dark brown eyes on Mark, looking at him with an intense but warm gaze.   
  
"An intervention changes this dance, Mark. It changes everything."  
  
Mark looked down at the camera in his hands and played with the plastic knobs and switches.   
He was sitting in the quiet office of the counselor he had made an appointment with a week ago.   
Actually, it was the third appointment Mark had made.   
He had cancelled the previous appointments, worrying and wondering if he was doing the right thing.   
For nearly two weeks, he had paced back and forth in his room, rewinding the events of the past year, playing them over and over in his mind until he thought he was going to go insane.   
There were so many reasons for him to go on, move forward and help Roger.  
Reason one- Roger was his friend. Bestfriend. And had been for years.   
Reason two- Roger was going to kill himself if he kept on going down the path he was on.  
Reason three- Roger would do the same for him, if the roles had been reversed.  
Reason four- April.  
But each time he made the appointment, fear and terror would wrap their tendrils around his chest and squeeze him until he reached out for the phone and cancelled the appointment.   
He was afraid- of everything.  
Of Roger's reaction. Of April's reaction. Of possibly ruining the lives of two of the people he cared most in the world about.   
Mark swung back and forth on his decision, even when Collins told him over and over again that it was the right thing to do.   
Finally on Christmas day, Mark had made the appointment and he vowed to keep it.  
  
"In a classic intervention, everyone who is meaningful to the person is included. Likewise, anyone who is affected by the person's destructive behavior is included..."  
  
As the counselor went on, Mark fidgeted in the large leather chair as he thought about that cold Christmas day when he had finally made up his mind.  
He had gotten up, early in the morning, hungry and tired from locking himself in his room and thinking too much. Though it was Christmas, Mark felt no reason to celebrate or even acknowledge the fact. He remembered the feeling of the sharp cold air as it hit his bare legs when he walked towards the kitchen. He had heard a muffled sound and turned his head towards the livingroom to find that a small figure was curled up in the corner of the couch. Mark walked towards the figure, already knowing in his heart that it was April.  
  
( "April?"  
She didn't move and when Mark moved closer, he realized that she was asleep. Her gaunt face   
was still except for her eyelids, which danced as they saw visions he could not see. Her soft,   
pale lips were lightly closed and her long dark hair flowed over her shoulders like a dark brown   
cape. She looked no more than twelve- she seemed so young. Mark saw that her white cheeks   
had dried tear tracks.   
She had fallen asleep crying.   
In her arms was her book of fairytales. She clutched it to her chest like a pillow and Mark saw   
that she was holding the book so tightly, her fingers had gone white with the effort. As he   
watched, her lips parted and her face twisted up into a grimace as she uttered a small sob. Mark   
reached out and touched her bare arm.   
She was as cold as ice.   
As quickly as he could, he rushed back to his bedroom and pulled his blankets off of his bed. He   
hurried back outside and drew the blanket around her carefully so as not to disturb her sleep. He   
touched her fingers, attempting to take her book, but her grip only tightened. She sobbed again   
and after a moment's pause, Mark drew the blanket over the book too. As he took a step back,   
he noticed a small red paper on the table near the couch.   
Curious, he picked it up and saw that it was a Christmas card. He opened it and read,  
  
"Dear April,  
We just wanted to wish you a very merry Christmas! We haven't heard from you in awhile   
and we hope that in all the fun you've been having in the "Big Apple" you haven't forgotten your   
family. We love you and miss you! Do you think you could pull yourself away from there for just a   
few days and spend an old fashioned Christmas day with us? Alicia misses her older sister and   
Adam misses teasing you. Your father misses spoiling his little girl and I miss having our   
mother/daughter talks. Call us soon and don't forget to wear a coat when you go outside- you   
wouldn't want to catch a cold now, dear.  
Love, Your entire family! )  
  
  
Mark had set the card back down and looked at April, feeling miserable down to the very core of his being. He had shivered, not because he was cold, but because he suddenly felt the weight of his responsibility come crashing back onto his shoulders. He was ruining their lives, not by making the appointments, but by canceling them. The longer he waited to do something, the longer April had to suffer and he could not bear the thought of her spending another night crying herself to unconsciousness.  
He had gone back to his room at that moment and made the call.  
And now, a week later, he was sitting in front of a large oak desk, listening to how an intervention could change their lives.  
"Mark?"  
He jerked his head up, realizing that she had been saying his name for a few seconds.  
"Mark, I realize that this is very difficult for you to do." she said gently. "That's why I recommend that a professional be with you on the day you decide to do your intervention."  
He shook his head violently.   
"No." he said. "No, Roger would go berserk if an outsider were there. I know he'll be pissed off just by having an intervention and I don't want to add to that."  
"Well, Mark, it's just safer having a professional interventionist there." she said. "But if you don't feel comfortable having one..."  
"I don't."  
She nodded and leaned back. "That's okay. It'll just take a little more preparation on the part of you and your family."  
Mark looked back down at his camera. "Roger doesn't really have a family." he said softly. "I mean, he does but... he's not on good terms with them. Our family... well, we're just a group of friends. And he's my bestfriend. Actually, he's more like a brother to me. A big brother."  
"Can you tell me more about your relationship?"  
"We met in high school." Mark said. He crossed and uncrossed his legs and then played with his hands, feeling uncomfortable talking about Roger and himself. "He used to protect me when... when I got picked on. Which was most of the time, really." He laughed nervously and picked at the ends of his scarf.   
"I was sorta small and skinny. Actually, I still am." He stopped and took a deep breath.  
"Go on."  
"My freshman year, this group of guys decided that they wanted to use me as a punching bag. They jumped me after school one day and I was getting my ass kicked when Roger came along." Mark half smiled at the memory.   
"There were four guys and he kicked their asses, one by one. Afterwards, he helped me clean myself up. I don't know why he helped me out. I was one of the dorkiest kids in high school and he was... he wasn't. He looked out for me. Even after high school when I went to Brown and he moved here to New York. When I dropped out, he let me move into the loft with him and his friends, no questions asked." Mark felt his eyes burn as tears filled them. He stopped again and closed his eyes.   
"He told me that... that I was his bestfriend. That that's what friends did for each other. They took care of each other, no questions asked."  
He opened his eyes and a tear slid down his cheek but he felt too tired to wipe it away.  
And now here I am, Mark thought, betraying my own bestfriend. My own brother. Telling a stranger shit that she shouldn't know because I'm too fucking weak to help him myself.  
My bestfriend.  
My own brother.  
And his girlfriend.  
Mark jumped to his feet and the counselor stared at him in surprise.  
"I... I can't do this." he muttered, heading to the door. "I'll just get Collins to do this because I shouldn't be the one doing this."  
The counselor got to her feet and touched his arm before he had a chance to open the door.  
"Mark, why do you think that shouldn't be the person to do this?" she asked. "You're his bestfriend and it's very clear to me that you care a lot about him. Why do you say that you shouldn't be the one to handle this?"  
Because I'm in love with April, Roger's girlfriend, he thought, staring at the doorknob.   
Because- how can I be worthy to help him when I look at April and wish that....  
"Because I just know I can't." Mark said quietly. "I couldn't help him quit for good the last time so I know I can't help him quit for good now."  
"You don't know that unless you try, Mark. Trying to help is the first step in changing the dance of addiction. You owe it to Roger and to yourself to at least try."  
( "I'll fix things for you, April, I promise. I promise I'll make things like they were before. You'll be happy again. I promise...." )  
Mark looked up at her and let his hand drop from the doorknob. She gently pulled him back towards his seat.  
"Why don't I tell you more about how to plan an intervention before you decide on anything else? You don't have to do anything you don't want to, Mark. You can listen to me and then walk away for good, if you want. But the fact that you came here today tells me that you want to help your friend. I want to help you help him."  
Mark nodded and allowed her to lead him back to the chair. She sat back behind the desk and smiled kindly at him.   
"When did Roger first start using drugs?"  
Mark sighed. He knew he had to go on.  
"About a year and a half ago. At least that's when I found out about it..."  
  
  
  
Half an hour later, Mark was walking up the old, creaky stairs that led up to the loft. In his hand, he clutched the pamphlets and papers the counselor had given him. Her parting words filled his mind.  
( "It may take a day to plan it out or it may take weeks. Sometimes even months. But when you do feel prepared and confident enough to go through with it, then that's the time you should have it." )  
Mark paused in front of the door when he heard the faint sound of Roger's guitar drifting through the plaster and wood.   
For a moment, he was transported back in time- months ago when Roger was still clean. On the rare days that Roger didn't have practice, Mark would come home to find them sitting on the couch, laughing and talking. The guitar would be in Roger's hands and April would have a smile as bright as the summer sun while he played his latest song for her. Mark would slink into the kitchen, feeling like an intruder as they looked adoringly at each other. During those moments, Mark would wish that things were different.  
And now things were different.  
And now Mark hated himself.  
He pushed open the door and glanced around the loft. The door to Roger's room was wide open and he walked quietly towards it.  
"Hello?" he said softly. He heard voices and stopped at the edge of the doorframe.  
The music had stopped.  
"That was beautiful, Roger." April's voice sounded tired and weak.  
"Shit, I still can't figure out what to do about that last chord."  
Strumming.  
"Well, I'd better have it straight by tonight or Nick's gonna shit bricks. I told him I'd get this song figured out by today."  
"Roger, about tonight..."  
"The club's gonna be packed! And Mike's bringing all the good stuff this time- pure, you know? Not like that asshole last time who mixed it in with some..."  
"I can't go tonight, Roger. I feel a little... I'm just not feeling too good."  
"Fuck, April, this is the third night you've bailed out on me!"  
"I know, Roger. I'm sorry. I'm just a little sick right now and..."  
"Maybe you should start taking those pills you've been dragging around with you. Christ, April, how long does the fucking flu last anyway?"  
Mark heard April sigh.  
"I'm sorry, Roger."  
"I'm sorry, Roger." Roger mimicked her voice cruelly. "I'm sorry I can't make your gig again but I have a cold and even though I know it's important for you to have me there tonight, I think I'm going to stay home and sleep."  
Silence.  
And then shuffling.  
"God, you're such a baby, April. It's just the flu."  
Silence again.  
Then April's exhausted voice floated softly in the air.   
"I'll just get some rest and... and then I'll come to your gig. I just need to take a quick nap but I'll come tonight."  
"You promise?"  
"Of course, Roger. It's at the Glass Kat, right?"  
"Yeah, we play at ten, after that punk band goes on."   
"I'll be there. I promise."  
"Good! Great! I told you you were being a baby. You'll get over it."  
"I love you, Roger."  
Her voice sounded thick and shaky. Filled with emotion.  
"Love you too, babe."  
He said it in a rush, like an afterthought.   
Mark heard shuffling and then loud footsteps approaching him. He took a step back, ready to run into his room but Roger didn't notice him as he stomped out of his bedroom holding his guitar case in one hand. His greasy hair looked as if it hadn't been washed in days and Mark could see the dark shadow that the stubble made on Roger's face. He looked haggard but a strange intense energy seemed to radiate from his body. The air around him seemed to jump with electricity and Mark knew instinctively that Roger was still amped on something. He stood quietly as he watched Roger fly out the door and exhaled the breath that he had been holding when the door slammed shut.  
Mark stood there, frozen, at the edge of the door when he heard a loud beeping sound from within Roger's room.  
It sounded like a pager.  
Frowning, he took the few steps into Roger's room and looked inside. April sat on the bed, staring down at the small black object she cradled in her hands. She looked transfixed as it beeped and Mark wondered when and where she had gotten a pager from.   
And why?  
Mark took a step forward and as he did, his camera bumped against the edge of the door. April's head jerked up at the sound and Mark looked in amazement as she threw the pager underneath a pillow and stood up.   
"God, Mark, you almost gave me a heart attack! Don't you know how to knock?" she cried out. Mark looked down and felt a hot blush rise to his cheeks.  
"I'm sorry. I just..."  
"How long have you been home?" she asked, crossing her arms.  
"A few minutes." he said. He raised his eyes. "I saw Roger walk out of here."  
"Oh." April looked relieved. She uncrossed her arms and sat back down on the edge of the bed. "He has a gig tonight."  
"So I heard."  
April lifted her legs up on the bed and looked away. "Of course, I would ask you to come but you never do."  
He ignored the sarcasm in her voice and walked towards the bed. He sat down next to her.  
"I went to see a counselor today, April." he said quietly.   
She looked at him and he knew that she was trying her hardest to keep her expression still.  
"Oh yeah?" April said, keeping her voice emotionless. She looked down and played with her fingers.  
"Yeah."  
"That's good."  
"We talked about Roger and his... his problem."  
April nodded without looking up. She spread her fingers out on the blanket in front of her and Mark saw that her hands were shaking slightly. With his heart pounding in his chest, he placed his hand on top of hers lightly.   
"He'll be okay, April." Mark said. "I'll make sure of it."  
April lifted her eyes and looked at him with her dark, tired eyes. There was a weariness in her gaze, so deep that Mark suddenly felt as if she were hiding something else from him. As if behind her eyes was a weight so heavy nothing he could do would make it lighter for her to carry.   
"I believe you, Mark." she said softly.   
"I.. I'll take care of you too." he said. He made a face at the awkward sound of his voice; at the awkward words he had uttered. "I mean, you'll be okay too, April."  
Her lips twisted up into a grim caricature of a smile and she drew her hand from underneath his.   
"No, I won't, Mark." she said. She drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. "But I know you'll take care of Roger. I'm counting on it. I have faith in you, Mark. I'm sticking around until I'm sure he's okay."  
Mark frowned and stared at her. "Sticking around until you're sure he's okay? April, what are you talking about..."  
April touched her forehead and shook her head.   
"God, I'm so tired, Mark." she said, forcing an artificial laugh that Mark could see through.  
"I don't know what I'm talking about anymore. I'm babbling nonsense. I just really need to sleep. I've been up since six this morning and I just... I just need to lay down."  
Mark wanted to ask her more questions, wanted to sit there and wait until she was forced to talk to him but he knew it would do no good- it would be like torturing her in the exhausted state she was in.   
"Okay." Mark said, sighing heavily. He stood up and April looked up at him gratefully.   
"Thank you, Mark." she said, leaning back against Roger's pillows.   
"For what?"  
"Everything." she said.   
She stretched out her legs and twisted over on her side. She closed her eyes and Mark stood next to the bed, staring down at her. His eyes traveled from her face to her hands, which were tucked underneath her cheek... before finally settling down on the small black object peeking out from underneath the pillow where she had thrown it.   
Why would April have a pager?  
"April?" Mark said, wanting to ask.   
April's face remained still.  
"April?" he said again. When she didn't answer, he took a step forward and bent down to pick it up.   
He stopped.   
It was none of his business and if April didn't want to tell him, then he had no right to even ask, much less look at it. Mark drew his hand back when April's eyes fluttered open. Mark's mind raced. He tried to think of some excuse, anything, to explain why he was reaching for her pager.  
But instead of getting angry, she reached up and pushed her pager deeper underneath the pillow. Her large brown eyes met his gaze and she looked at him solemnly.   
"I love you, Mark." she said quietly.   
But he could read the other words she didn't say- in her gaze, in her expression.  
Don't ask questions you don't really want to know the answers to, Mark.  
Do you really want to know?  
Mark looked down, surprised, and shuffled his feet, trying his best to ignore the heat that burned his ears.  
"I love you too, April."   
She closed her eyes again and when Mark saw that she was finally asleep, he walked out quietly, closing the door behind him.   
  
  
  
A week later, Mark stared at his bedroom calendar.  
January 28th.  
He was ready.  
They all were.  
At least, Mark hoped so.  
He sat down at the edge of his bed and stared at his hands.  
"I'd better be ready." he said out loud, staring at the cracked, dry skin on the edge of his raw, jagged fingernails. He had started biting his nails again lately- a habit he thought he had kicked back in high school. "Because if I'm not and I go through with this, I'll fuck up not only my relationship with him but his entire life."  
"And maybe hers too."  
He moaned and rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses.   
"God, now I'm talking to myself and my camera isn't even on..."  
"Mark?"  
He looked up sharply and his glasses clattered to the floor. He got down on his knees and began to pat the floor in search of them. He heard footsteps and then saw a blurry figure crouch down next to him.   
"Here, Mark." April's voice said. He turned his head towards her voice. "Lift up your head a little..."  
He felt warm fingers brush past his cheeks, the cool metal of his glasses against his ears and then the world grew clear again.   
April smiled at him and Mark blushed, pushing his glasses up on his nose with one finger.  
"Thanks." he said, standing up. She followed him and shrugged, still smiling slightly.  
"No prob." she said. Her smile grew smaller as she looked up at his calendar.   
"So today's the day." she said quietly.   
He nodded and looked down at his scarf.   
"Is he in his room?" he asked.  
"Yeah." she said. "He's working on a song right now."  
"Maureen and Collins are coming over in a few minutes." Mark said, looking up. "April, are you ready for this? I mean, do you feel...."  
She moved past him and sat down on the edge of his bed. Mark sat down next to her and she looked at him earnestly.  
"Mark, we've been practicing for a week now." she said. "I'm ready. Are you?"  
"Yeah, I think so." Mark said softly.   
She seemed relieved and looked down at her fingers, like the way he had been doing before she walked in. He peeked at her face from the corner of his eye.   
She seemed happier in the past few days, more so than she had been in the past few months. She even walked differently, with her head held a little higher and the small, secretive smile she wore now had been lingering on her lips lately. Mark had the sinking feeling that she had put all her faith and trust and hope in his ability to help and he did not want to disappoint her.   
"Are you ever scared, April?" he asked, after awhile. "That things might not..."  
"No." she said quickly. She looked up at him and shook her head. "Things have to work out, Mark. They have to."  
"What happens after?" Mark asked suddenly. "When Roger goes to rehab? What are you going to do then? When he comes out? Will you stay or...or...."  
April looked down again and the smile disappeared altogether.  
"Mark, just worry about Roger." she said softly. She closed one hand over her other wrist and stared at it. "Roger getting off drugs is the most important thing right now. Worry about after- afterwards."  
"I just... I just want to make sure you'll be okay." Mark said softly. The next thing he said cut him deeply but he had to make sure she heard what he had to say.   
"I know you love him, April, and I know that Roger getting better is all you want right now. But you do have a life outside of him, outside of us here. You deserve so much better than this and I would understand it if... if you decide to go."  
Mark looked down and took a deep breath, exhaling it slowly.   
"Actually, I think you should go. Back to your family. Or at least far away from us. Before we can wreck your life even more."  
"You're not wrecking my life, Mark." April said. She placed her hand over his and he looked up in surprise. It was the first time in a long time that she had reached out to touch him. Her face was serious as she spoke. "And I won't leave. I can't. My life is intertwined with Roger's life now. And it always will be, whether I want it to or not."  
Mark didn't understand what she meant but he forced himself to smile at her.  
"Since when did you get so poetic?" he asked. "I mean, you said 'intertwined'- isn't that an SAT word or something?"   
She flashed one of her rare, beautiful, wide grins and squeezed his hand.   
"You don't even want to know what I got on my SAT's." she said.   
He opened his mouth to say something when he heard someone knocking on the front door outside. He looked back at April and they looked at each other in silence.   
Maureen and Collins had arrived..  
Roger's dance was about come to a stop.  
"You'd better open the door." April said. "I'll go get Roger."  
Mark felt his mouth and throat become dry and parched and he licked his lips and nodded.   
"Yeah, you're right." he muttered.   
They stood up but as Mark walked towards the door, April grabbed his hand. He looked back.  
Her eyes had filled with silent tears and she reached for him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders in a tight, almost desperate embrace. Mark slid his arms around her waist and held her carefully, trying to keep his pounding heart in check.   
"I lied, Mark. I am scared." she whispered in his ear. She drew in a shaky breath. "I am so scared."  
Mark said nothing but he tightened his grasp on her until he was no longer sure who was holding who. They seemed to be holding each other up, holding each other for support. Time seemed to stop as he held her, simultaneously pushing and pulling her against him.  
The knocking outside grew insistent but Mark wanted to ignore it. He wanted this moment to last forever. He wanted to keep inhaling the sweet scent of her shampoo, to keep feeling the warmth that her body radiated, to keep feeling her soft hair against his cheek...  
But then she was pulling away from him, staring up at him with her teary doe-like eyes. She sniffed and then wiped her eyes with her hands.   
"Things will work out, April." Mark said weakly. "You'll see. Don't be afraid."  
She nodded and walked outside, leaving Mark to trail behind her. She threw him one last look, one last glance before she disappeared behind the door of Roger's bedroom.   
  
  
Mark walked to the front door and opened it.   
"Hey guys." he said in a low voice.  
"Markie, babe, you don't look so well." Maureen said as Collins and her walked in. She pressed her lips against his cheek and he could smell the faint scent of her lip gloss. It made him feel nauseous.   
"I'm fine, Maureen." he said. He stepped away from her, closed the door, and then turned to face them. "You guys know what to do... what to say?"  
Collins nodded and leaned against the table.   
"Mark, you did a good job pulling this together." he said. His face was more serious than Mark had ever seen it to be and it made Mark feel even more nervous and afraid. It was as if Collins were already practicing the grim expression he would wear when Roger exploded.  
"Well, what the fuck is going on here?" Roger's angry voice burst through the quiet like a lightning bolt and the hair on back of Mark's neck bristled in shock.  
Roger walked out of his room, scratching his dirty blonde hair. He needed to shave- badly- and his clothes seemed to hang on his body as if he were a human clothes hook. He was wearing a sleeveless t-shirt and his arms, which had been once tanned and muscled, were now only slightly larger variations of April's. His skin was littered with old and new track marks.   
He looked horrible.  
"What is this?" Roger asked, looking around. "The Brady Bunch reunion?"  
He turned around to face April, who had just walked out of his bedroom. She closed the door behind her and looked back at him quietly.  
"What the fuck is going on, April?" Roger asked in a soft, dangerous voice. He took a step towards her and Mark saw a brief flicker of fear run through her eyes. She looked at the rest of the group.  
"Roger, we have something to tell you." Collins broke in and glanced at Mark and Maureen. Roger looked up at the sound of his voice and a huge grin broke on his thin face.   
"Oh shit, Collins!" he said. He moved across the room and threw his arms around the other man, pulling him into a tight hug.   
Mark shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He was beginning to panic- things were going completely opposite to what he had intended.   
Collins hugged him back and smiled slightly. Roger pulled away and laughed.  
"I haven't seen you in... almost a year, right?" he said. He grabbed his friend's arms and squeezed them. The words rushed out of his mouth. "Man, we have to talk! We have to catch up! Have you met my girlfriend April? Oh shit, you've been gone too long, old man!"  
Collins smiled again and nodded. "Yes, it has been too long, Roger." he said smoothly. "We can catch up later. There's plenty of time to talk, Roger. Later. Right now, Mark and all of us have something to tell you."  
He glanced up at Mark and tilted his head slightly. Roger released his grip on Collins and looked over at Mark. Anger and annoyance clouded his dark blue eyes and he clenched his jaw.  
"Goddammit, Mark." Roger said. His voice had lowered considerably. It was strange to watch him change like this- hopping around from one manic emotion to the other. Mark suddenly felt as if the Roger he once knew was long gone and that nothing he could ever do or say could bring him back.  
He had the sinking feeling that this was a mistake.  
"What the fuck did you tell Collins, Mark?" Roger asked. His head jerked over to where Maureen stood. "And why the fuck is the drama queen here?"  
Instead of losing her temper, Maureen only looked at him with a mixture of concern and sadness.  
"Roger, I know we never got along." she said, standing up but still keeping her distance. "But that doesn't mean I don't care about you. And you have to see that Mark wants to help you- that he does not want to lose you to this addiction. All of us, me, Mark, Collins and April care for you. That's why we're here."  
Roger stared at her in confusion.  
Mark took a step towards him despite the fear he felt coursing through his veins.  
"Roger, we're here to tell you that you have a problem." he said, marveling at how strangely calm his voice sounded. "You're addicted to heroin. You need help. We want to help you because we all love you and we don't want you to die. And you will die if you keep going down this road."  
Roger's jaw dropped and he stared at Mark, more in shock than in anger.  
"What the fuck..."  
"Roger, Mark is right." Collins said smoothly. He took a step towards Roger. "You have a problem, an addiction. We love you, Roger, and that's why we came here today..."  
"No, all of you have the problem, not me!" Roger said. He turned around and stomped towards the his bedroom door but April blocked his entrance.  
"Get out of my way, April." he said, glaring at her. Mark moved forward, afraid of what Roger might do.   
"No." she said quietly. Her face was still and intense. "They're right, Roger. You have a problem. You need help."  
A loud, frustrated howl flew out of Roger's mouth and he reached up and clutched his hair as if he were in pain.  
And he probably is in pain, Mark thought. I wonder when his last fix was?  
"Jesus Christ, you people are killing me!" Roger screamed. He stomped towards the front door but Mark stepped in front of him.  
"Get out of my way, Mark." Roger cried out. "Just stay out of my fucking life!"  
"No, Roger." Mark said. He fought to keep his voice steady and controlled. "I won't stay out of your life because you're my bestfriend. At least you were before the drugs took over."  
Mark's voice began to waver and grow thick.  
"Remember when I turned sixteen? We cut school, you bought me beer with your fake id and we sat on the pier, getting drunk. Remember what we talked about Roger? You told me you wanted to make music.. write songs that everyone would remember long after you were gone. You told me you wanted your life to mean more. More than just the shitty town we lived in. More than what your father told you you'd amount to be. More than all of that. And you told me that no matter what....."  
"I'd take care of you." Roger finished for him quietly. His red rimmed eyes looked at Mark dully before Mark realized that they had filled with tears. Mark took a step forward and smiled slightly through his own tears.  
"Because you said we were brothers." Mark said. "But you forgot that, sometimes, I'd have to take care of you too. Roger, I love you. You have to trust me now. Please, just trust that everything I'm doing now is to make sure that you do write songs that last forever. Trust that I want to help you make your life mean more. If you keep doing drugs, if you don't get help, then your life would have meant no..."  
"Okay." Roger's shoulders drooped and he looked drained. But his eyes remained focused on Mark's. "Okay, Mark."  
Mark almost laughed at the relief he felt. His body heaved with the release of the exhaustion he had been feeling.  
"We'll pay for rehab, Roger." Collins said. "We'll take care of you in every way you need help."  
Roger looked at him gratefully and nodded. He turned around to look at April and the expression on her face was... indescribable.  
Extreme, unbridled happiness.  
And something else... ?  
Mark watched her as she ran towards Roger and threw her arms around his shoulders. Mark thought he saw a hint of another emotion touch her features- sadness. Regret? It seemed out of place next to her smile but once Mark saw it, he couldn't un-see it.  
April pulled away from Roger and looked up at his face.  
"You promise, Roger?" she asked. She looked eager. Hopeful. "You promise you'll go to rehab? You promise?"  
"Yes." Roger said.   
She uttered a sound of joy and hugged him again, squeezing her eyes tightly as she did. Tears seemed to flow down her face in a waterfall and she tucked her face against the collar of Roger's t-shirt.  
Collins looked over at Mark and smiled and Maureen walked over to where Mark stood and slid her arm around his waist. She leaned her head against shoulder and all three of them watched as Roger and April held each other.  
"I'll call a cab." Collins said softly to Mark and Mark nodded without looking at him. "We'll get Roger over there soon."  
Mark watched April as she finally pulled away from Roger. She beamed at the others as she wiped her face. She turned around and walked towards the kitchen but Mark knew she wasn't looking where she was going.  
"April, watch out!" Mark cried out. April looked up at him and as she did, her hip collided with the kitchen table. Mark's camera, which he had placed on the edge of the table earlier, teetered over the edge and Mark saw it go over.  
April gasped and grabbed a corner of it with one hand and miraculously that was enough for her to stop it from crashing down to the floor. Mark pulled away from Maureen and sprinted towards April.  
"Oh my God, April, you should have just let it fall!" Mark exclaimed. April looked at him, wincing in pain as she put his camera back on the table. Her palm had been sliced across and her thick, red blood dripped down her arm and onto the floor. He reached for her hand to examine it but to his dismay, she recoiled from him and screamed.  
"No, get away from me, Mark! Don't touch me!"  
She pressed her wounded hand against her stomach and stared at him with wide, frightened eyes. Her face seemed to grow white.  
Mark froze. "A-April, your hand." he stuttered. "I-I just wanted t-to..."  
"No!" she cried out again and she took another step back, away from him. "Don't touch me and don't touch your camera! Don't touch my blood!"  
Roger walked towards her, confused.  
"God, April, you're bleeding pretty bad." he said. Her eyes, which seemed to Mark to be perfectly round, looked at Roger and she shook her head. She took a deep breath to calm herself down.  
"It's just a small cut." she muttered. She walked away from both men and grabbed a towel next to the kitchen sink. She pressed it against her hand and shook her head.  
"I just... I just don't like the sight of blood, that's all." she said, as if they had asked for an explanation. She walked quickly inbetween Mark and his camera and stared at him.  
"Don't touch your camera, Mark. Let me clean it up, okay?" she said firmly. Mark took a step back and nodded.   
"Okay, April." Mark said quietly. She looked as if she might burst into tears again if he had said no.   
Maureen and Collins walked towards them.  
"Honey, that's a pretty bad cut." Maureen said. "Why don't I get you a bandage wrap and let's see if we can stop the bleeding okay?"  
April nodded and then shook her head. "But you can't touch me." she said.  
Maureen stared at her strangely. "Okay sweetie, if that's what you want. I'll just get the wrap and you can put it on yourself, okay?"  
April nodded again and Maureen walked to the bathroom.  
"April, it's okay." Collins said soothingly. He seemed to study her face and Mark wondered what Collins was thinking. "Just press the towel against the cut hard. That'll help stop the bleeding while Maureen gets the wrap."  
She nodded again.  
"Shit, there's nothing in the bathroom." Maureen said, walking back. She looked at Mark and then at Collins. "Why don't we buy some down the street at the corner store? And some disinfectant soap too. I have no idea how you boys manage to live in this place."  
"That's a good idea." Collins said. "I can call a cab while you're at it."  
Maureen reached out and touched the top of April's arm.  
"Come on, come with us." she said kindly. "You look like you're going to pass out if you don't get away from this mess. You need some fresh air."  
April moved silently as Maureen pulled her gently away from the small pool of blood on the floor. Then April jerked her arm back and walked quickly towards the kitchen. She picked up another towel, a larger one, and walked back towards the table.  
She dropped it over the mess and looked relieved.  
"Don't touch it." she said. She looked at Roger and then at Mark. "Let me clean it up when I get back."  
"Okay, April." Mark said and Roger shrugged and then nodded.  
Maureen took her arm again and this time she walked with her, as compliant as a lamb. Collins glanced back at Mark and Roger before he walked out of the loft.   
"Maybe you should help Roger pack some of his stuff?" Collins said. He smiled. "And don't forget his guitar, Mark."  
Mark smiled back but only with his lips. He was worried about April, especially about her reaction.  
Why had she gotten so upset?   
Mark's eyes trailed back to the towel which was slowly soaking up her blood.  
He almost turned around to pick it up, to clean it up but couldn't bring himself to move. She had looked so upset, so adamant about no one touching the mess that Mark knew she would have a fit if she came back and saw that it had been cleaned up.  
"Good-bye." Collins called out.  
Mark watched as he walked through the doorframe.  
Collins closed the door behind him.  
Roger and Mark were alone. 


	6. Ch. 6- Reactions

Disclaimer: Not mine. All Jonathan Larson's.  
A/N: Okay, if I don't get anymore reviews this story is over! *Sniffles* Seriously, I don't know if I'm doing a bad job or even a good job with this thing. I have no feedback and it's beginning to make me feel like a sailor without a map on her first voyage. *Wipes away tears* So... more reviews please!   
  
Chapter 6- Reactions  
  
For a moment they both stood in silence. Roger turned around to stare at the bloody towel and Mark said nothing.  
Mark took a step towards Roger.   
He cleared his throat and Roger raised his head.  
"Hey." Mark said quietly. "I want you to know that whatever happens now, I'll..."  
Roger turned around to face him and Mark took a step back in shock.  
Roger's face had twisted up into an expression of pure hatred. Before Mark could even take another step back, Roger's fist collided into his face.  
Mark fell to the floor on his back. His glasses clattered down the floor next to him but he didn't reach out for them. He couldn't. The pain in his mouth was excruciating. He reached up and touched his lips gingerly, wincing when his fingers came into contact with open flesh. He stared at his hand, covered with blood- his blood, with unbelieving eyes.  
Oh God, Mark thought wildly.  
Oh God, what is Roger going to do to me?  
Oh God oh God oh God...  
He jerked back and tried to move away, tried to get to his feet but Roger was faster than him. Roger bent down and grabbed Mark's collar with both hands, pulling the smaller man up to his feet.  
"What did I tell you, Mark?" Roger said, in a strangely calm voice. His blue eyes were bloodshot and Mark could see the drug-induced insanity in their depths. Why hadn't he noticed it before?   
Oh God, I should have known, Mark's mind raced. I should have known it was too easy...  
"What did I say, Mark? My fucking bestfriend? What did I tell you?"  
Mark could only whimper.   
He tried to push himself away from Roger but his hands were like steel against his neck.   
Suddenly, Mark felt himself being thrown back.  
It felt like an explosion had gone off behind his eyes when the back of his head slammed against the wall.  
For a moment, Mark thought that he was going to pass out.  
The pain was so intense that he could barely breathe. He slid down to the floor and coughed, spitting out more blood. He struggled to get up but his legs wouldn't move. Roger walked towards him and Mark's eyes widened at the thought of what Roger would do next.  
"Roger, please." he said weakly, trying to force air into his lungs. "Please, don't."  
"I told you!" Roger screamed at him. "I told you to stay out of my fucking life! That's what I said Mark! I told you to fuck off!!"  
Roger bent down and grabbed Mark's already torn collar. Mark tried to pry Roger's fingers off but the move only seemed to make Roger angrier. He tightened his grip on Mark's shirt, forcing the fabric to constrict against the soft flesh of his neck. Mark gagged and tried to twist away but the fabric grew tighter and tighter and suddenly Mark felt light headed.  
He couldn't breathe.  
The room seemed to grow darker and Mark closed his eyes. He was dimly aware that he was still struggling but his body felt miles away from his mind.  
He's going to kill me, he thought.  
I'm going to die right here.  
Like this.  
From a distance, he heard his name being called and then a scream. His mind struggled with the recognition of that voice, grasped at the faint memory of that sound.  
No!  
April, no, go away!  
Leave before he...  
Before Roger...  
And suddenly Mark was free. He felt himself falling through air... He didn't even feel it when he hit the floor. For a moment, he lay there, on the hard cold floor, crumpled and broken. Through the pain, he rolled himself onto his back and forced his eyes open.  
April.  
The sight of her made Mark move with a start. He forced himself up with his arms and sat against the wall, ready to hurl himself at Roger if he made one move towards April.  
"Roger." Her voice dripped with a mixture of fury and sorrow. "I can't believe... What have you done?!"  
Roger's chest heaved with each deep and heavy breath and his hair was growing damp with sweat. The front of his shirt was stained with blood.  
My blood, Mark thought wearily. That's my blood on him.  
He looked at Mark, confused, and then turned back to April.  
"I... I..." Roger began and Mark almost laughed at how small and scared he sounded.   
As if he's the one who should be afraid, Mark thought bitterly.  
"How could you?" April said, looking at Roger intently. "How could you do this to him? He was only trying to help you. He loves..."  
Roger's hands flew up to his ears and he covered them like an angry child.   
"It's always about Mark!" he screamed. "You always take Mark's side!"  
April shook her head in disgust and walked over to Mark. She kneeled down in front of him and Mark stared at Roger over her shoulder. He had lowered his arms and was staring at April with tears in his eyes.   
"April, I'm sorry." Roger said. "I'm so sorry. Please don't leave me."  
April grabbed a sweater from the couch, a thin white one that Mark vaguely remembered seeing her wear, and as she did, Mark noticed that her hands were shaking badly. Her left hand was covered with a thin strip of medical cloth.  
"April, just go." he whispered. His tongue felt thick in his mouth and his jaw ached but he ignored it. "Get out of here before he snaps again. I can deal with him.."  
She shook her head and pressed her sweater up to his bottom lip.   
"No you can't." she said quietly.   
She picked up his fallen glasses and placed them on his face so carefully that her hands didn't touch his face.  
She moved to his side and slid her arm around his waist, helping him up to his feet.   
"Can you make it to the door, Mark?" she asked. "I'll help you."  
Mark nodded, suddenly feeling cold and numb. He put one arm around her shoulders for support as she gently lead him towards the door.  
"Don't go." Roger begged her.   
He fell to his knees and sobbed hysterically as she and Mark walked past him. He tried to grab her legs but she moved away quickly, accidentally pushing Mark to the side.  
"April! Mark! Please! I'm sorry! Don't leave me!"  
April paused at the door and turned her head to look back at him like Lot's wife.   
"I'll come back, Roger." she said.   
Roger stared at her, uncomprehendingly and when she pulled Mark outside and closed the door behind them, Mark heard a howl of rage and defeat echo through the building. Harsh, ragged sobs and screams filled the air and Mark stared at April as she helped him down the stairs.  
"You can't go back there, April." Mark said. His head pounded and mouth felt as if it had been stuffed with cotton. "Not by yourself."  
"Mark, quiet." she snapped.  
She pushed the door to the street open with one hand and pulled him out.   
The sharp rush of the cold air on his face was soothing and he moaned with relief. They walked a few more blocks down the street before April finally stopped walking. She slid her arm away from his waist and propped him up against the wall of a building.  
She stared into his face, examining his wounds with her eyes.  
"Are any of your teeth loose?" she asked, after awhile.   
"No." He pulled her sweater away from his mouth and it made a sickeningly wet sound. "But I think your sweater is pretty much ruined."  
April ignored him and continued to study his face. Mark didn't know why she didn't touch him and her stare was beginning to unnerve him.  
"Did he cut himself before he touched you?" she asked suddenly.  
Mark stared at her. "What?" he asked.   
"Did Roger cut himself when he hit you?" She repeated the question slowly and loudly as if he were hard of hearing.  
"N-No.." Mark said, not understanding the question. "I don't think so. Why? What difference does it make?"  
"I think you need to go to the hospital, Mark." she said, ignoring the question. "I think the back of your head.. is still bleeding."  
"No." Mark said. "I don't want to. I just need an ice pack and some rest, I.."  
"Goddammit, Mark! You're going to the fucking hospital!" she cried out hysterically.  
Mark looked at her, bewildered at her reaction.   
His eyes caught the white bandage on her hand and saw that a spot of blood had appeared on the surface of it.  
He reached out for her hand, wincing at the sight of his own bloody fingers.  
"April, your hand. I think it's still bleeding..."  
Her eyes filled with horror and she stepped back away from him.   
"No!" she screamed. "Don't touch me, Mark! Don't you dare touch me!"  
That hurt more than the physical pain and Mark felt his eyes fill with tears.   
"Okay." he said weakly and turned his face away.  
April shook her head and groaned. She moved closer to him and touched his chest lightly with the fingers of her other hand.  
"Mark, I didn't mean it like that." she said softly. "Mark? Look at me, please? Mark."  
"Okay." he muttered.   
She took her sweater from his hands, walked to the edge of the street and used it to flag down a taxi.  
They were at the emergency room within minutes.  
  
  
Two A.M.  
The doctor tilted Mark's head forward gently, pushed Mark's hair out of the way and frowned.  
"I think we need to get your brother x-rayed." he said, looking over at April. "He may have a slight concussion but I'm not sure. And his lower lip certainly needs stitches."  
April nodded and smiled slightly. She uncrossed her arms and walked across the room to the bed where Mark sat.   
"My brother gets into these insane bar fights all the time." she said with a wide smile and the doctor shook his head, smiling back.  
"I guess boys will be boys." he said. "I'll go check if there are any rooms available. I'll be back in about fifteen minutes or so."  
He glanced at Mark.   
"Don't move your head around too much, young man." he said sternly. He walked towards the door and closed it behind him.  
"Your brother?" Mark said, raising his head. "Bar fights?"  
She shrugged and sat on the stool in front of him.   
"Just remember- your name is Adam Dylan." she said. "You were born on January 26, 1972 and your social..."  
"Why?" he asked suddenly. "Why do all this, April?"  
"Insurance, Mark." she said seriously. "You think they'd help you if...."  
"No, I meant... why stay with us? With Roger?" he asked. He shook his head slowly. "Why go through all of this?"  
April lowered her eyes and twirled her hair nervously.   
They sat in silence for a moment.  
"April?"  
She raised her eyes and Mark saw that they had filled with tears.   
"He's my first." she said in a voice barely above a whisper. She hugged herself and shivered.  
"Your... first?" Mark repeated, confused.   
She looked up at him meaningfully and nodded.  
"My first... everything."  
And then he inhaled a cold breath as he realized what she meant.   
"Oh."  
"And...I know... he's not the same person I fell in love with." she said in a broken, hollow voice. "But, you know what? That doesn't matter. Not to me. When you love someone... you just love them. No matter what. And I know... I know that even though that person looked like Roger tonight, it wasn't him. Roger wouldn't hurt you. He would never, ever hurt you, Mark. The person who did this to you... that was someone else. That was some sort of... demon up there. Not Roger."  
"It was the drugs." Mark said.  
"You don't think that drug is a demon?" she asked fiercely. She lowered her head again and shook it. "I can't believe I was so stupid. So fucking naive! I actually believed that he... that Roger was going to be okay. In one stupid night, I actually believed..."  
"I did too, April." Mark said softly. "I wanted to believe it too."  
April shook her head and brushed away the few strands of hair that had fallen into her eyes.  
She stood up and shook out her sweater. It was badly stained with dried blood and Mark winced, knowing that all of it had come from him.  
She looked at him and then stuck her hand in her back pocket, pulling out a $20 bill. She put it on the bed and Mark stared at it.  
"Here. Just in case they release you before I get back."  
"Where are you going?" he asked, feeling a wave of panic and nausea rush through his chest when she moved towards the door.  
"They'll take care of you, Mark." she said quietly. "I'll come back later. See how you're doing. If they send you home before I get back, go to Collins' apartment, okay?"  
"April, you can't go back there." he cried out. Even though it sent a shock of pain throughout his body, he jumped to his feet and reached for her.  
"April, no!"  
She drew back, away from him, as if afraid to make contact with him. He took a step back when he saw the fear in her face as she stared at him.  
"April?" he said her name in a small, broken voice. He could barely bring himself to say the words. "Why...?"  
"I.. I have to go, Mark."  
"I won't hurt you." he said, aware of how pitiful he sounded. He didn't care. "April, I promise."  
She shook her head and looked at him with pity.   
"Mark, I know you wouldn't hurt me." she said softly. "It's the other way around."  
"April, you can't hurt me..."  
She opened her mouth to answer him when the doctor walked in.  
"Well, it looks like we have a room upstairs." he said. April smiled at him and moved out the door.  
"I'm going to make a few phone calls." she said to the doctor. Her eyes flew to Mark's face and begged him to understand.   
"I'll see you later?"  
Mark leaned back on the bed and sighed, looking away.  
"Ma... Adam?"  
"Okay."  
  
  
Collins handed him an ice pack and Mark pressed it against the back of his head.  
He leaned forward from his seat on the couch and stared blankly at the flickering images on the television screen.  
"I never would have believed Roger would do this." Collins said, shaking his head.   
He sat down in a chair across from Mark and Mark slowly turned his eyes up to where Collins sat.  
"Well, he did it." he said dully.   
The hospital had released him early that morning, after two sets of x-rays and half an hour of stitches. They kept him for a few more hours to make sure he woudn't pass out or worse. When they had finally let him go, he had waited for April in front of the building, on the street, until he felt so faint that he could no longer bear it. He called a cab from the hospital lobby and used the $20 to pay for a silent ride across town to Collin's apartment.   
He remembered the look on Collins's face when he answered the door.   
Mark knew how badly he looked.  
He had gone to the bathroom at the hospital and looked in the mirror for a long time, feeling cold and strangely ashamed at what he saw. His lip was swollen and marred by the small black stitches that the doctor had placed there. His upper left cheek was blue and black and sore beneath his unbelieving fingertips. His neck was covered with a necklace of bruises.   
I'm not me, he thought. That isn't me in the mirror.  
It can't be.  
The numbing blanket of shock had settled over him at that moment and he wrapped it around him for protection.  
Mark turned his eyes back towards the television and sat still. He dimly heard Collins talking to him, telling him that he could stay as long as he wanted, that he was safe here, asking him if he was hungry...  
From a distance, he heard the phone ring and saw Collins stand up to answer it from the corner of his eye.  
"Mark."  
Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder and he jerked back, startled.  
"Mark, it's April." Collins said, holding the phone out to him.  
At the sound of her name, Mark shook off the haze from his mind and grabbed the phone eagerly.  
"April?!" Mark half cried, half yelled into the phone. He ignored the pain from his mouth and head and throat. "Where are you?"  
"Mark, relax." Her voice sounded calm and Mark did relax- a little. He loosened his grip on the the phone and closed his eyes.  
"How are you?" she asked quietly. "Mark? How're you feeling? When did they release you?"  
"I'm alive." he said slowly, saying each word with care. "I got out around nine."  
"That's good. Then you're basically okay?"  
"No." He squeezed his eyes, trying to push back the tears that had suddenly come. "April, come here. Please?"  
He heard a sigh and then a brief moment of silence.  
"Mark, I can't." she said finally. "I have to look for Roger. When I got back to the loft... he was gone. I've been looking for him all morning but..."  
He heard another heavy sigh.  
"I came back to the loft to see if he had come back while I was out. He's still not here, Mark. I have to find him."  
"We'll find him." Mark said, opening his eyes. He sat up. "I'll be over there in a few..."  
"Mark, don't you dare leave Collins' apartment!" April cried out.   
"I can't let you look for him by yourself." He tried to sound forceful and strong but it was a pitiful sounding attempt.   
"Mark, get some rest." she said firmly. "Get some sleep. Stay at Collins's place for awhile, okay? It isn't safe for you to come back here. Not after... what he did."  
"It's not safe for you either, April!" Mark cried. His jaw began to pound viciously. "Just give me an hour. I'll be fine, okay? Just one.."  
"Mark, you are not going anywhere." she said. "You are in no position to.."  
"But April.... I need you."  
Silence.  
"I...I mean, I...I.." Mark closed his eyes, wishing that he could take back the words. "I.. need to..."  
Silence.  
Hello?" Mark said fearfully.  
"What time is it right now, Mark?"  
He glanced up at the kitchen wall clock.  
"Around twelve thirty." he said.  
"Two hours." she said finally. "I'll be there in two hours to drop off some of your things. I'll be there at two. Don't go anywhere."  
Before Mark could reply, he heard the dialtone ringing in his ear.   
"Shit." he muttered and pressed the hang up button on the phone.   
He looked up to find Collins looking at him with a curious, thoughtful look on his face. 


	7. Ch. 7- Gone

Disclaimer: Not mine... all characters belong to Jonathan Larson.   
A/N: I don't even know where Roger is.... =/  
  
Chapter 7- Gone  
  
"Roger did what to him?! How is he?"  
Voices floated in the air around him and Mark turned over on the bed, floating in the space between dreams and reality.  
"He's sleeping. Finally. I practically had to hold his nose to make him swallow those pills his doctor gave him. Painkillers, I think. He wanted to leave."  
"Thanks for not letting him go."  
Silence.  
And then faint mumbling.  
April?  
Mark opened his eyes and blinked, straining to hear.  
More mumbling.  
He heard footsteps coming towards the bedroom. The door opened wide and Mark sat up eagerly, despite the fresh wave of pain that shot through his head.   
"Oh my God, pookie! What did that bastard do to you?" Maureen exclaimed.  
Mark blinked at her in surprise. Her blonde curls bounced as she ran to his side and Mark cried out in pain when she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into a tight embrace.   
"Oh my poor Markie." she said, releasing him. "My poor, poor baby. I'm gonna kill Roger for what he did to you!"  
Mark stared at her, still trying to comprehend what was happening.  
Where was April?  
"What time is it?" he asked. Maureen looked at him strangely and then glanced down at her wristwatch.  
"It's six o'clock." she said, looking back up at his face. She reached out and touched his face gently. Her cool fingers felt soothing and Mark closed his eyes briefly.   
"Oh, Mark, sweetie, why didn't you call me when this happened? I would have taken care of you, baby. You know that."  
"How did you find out?" Mark asked, opening his eyes.   
"I stopped by the loft about an hour ago and no one was there." she said. Maureen tilted her head and stroked his cheek. "But I saw dried blood on the floor and wall and panicked. I... I called everyone we knew and finally Collins... God, Mark you should have called me as soon as you got here."   
Her blue eyes filled with tears and she leaned forward and kissed him lightly on his lips.   
"You should have moved out when I told you to." she said sadly. "I'm so, so sorry, Mark."  
Mark stiffened when she hugged him again but this time her embrace was gentle; loving. He leaned against her and felt tears come into his eyes. It had been so long since someone, anyone, had held him like this, a long time since someone actually took care of him instead of the other way around, and it felt good. He needed the contact, needed to feel someone close to him who wanted to hold him. He sighed against Maureen and closed his eyes.  
"I love you, Mark. I really do." she said, rubbing his back. "I'll help you find a new place and we can decorate it together and..."  
Mark pulled away from her and looked into her face, incredulous. She stared back at him.  
"What?"  
"God, Maureen." he said, shaking his head in disgust. "I can't believe you..."  
"Mark, what?" she said, her face growing cold.   
"Nevermind."  
"What the hell is wrong with you?"  
"You really don't want me, do you?" he said softly. His voice was confused but not weak. "You really just don't want me around you."  
"That's not true, Mark." she said but the quiver in her voice gave her away.  
"Yes, it is." Mark said. He leaned back on the pillows behind him and looked at her. "You know it is. If you don't want me around then why not just break up with me, Maureen? Why pull me along this long? Why drag it out?"  
Her blue eyes grew dark, not with anger, but with a deep sadness that Mark felt himself.   
"I love you, Mark." she said. "I truly love you. But..."  
"You're not in love with me." He almost laughed. This was like a bad movie.  
It seemed unreal.  
She shook her head slowly and reached out for his hand. "Mark, I just... I'm not the woman you want me to be. I'm not the person you need me to be. You know that as well as I do. You always wanted someone to take care of, someone to protect, watch over- it's just your nature. And I just... I'm just not that person. And you're not.. "  
"The man you want me to be." Mark finished for her. "I guess your stage wasn't big enough for the both us, right?"  
Maureen looked at him, pained. He sighed when tears began to gather in her eyes again and cursed himself inside. He was tired, sore, disappointed and depressed but Maureen didn't deserve to get the sharp end of his chaotic emotions.   
"I'm sorry." he said fnally. He squeezed her hand as a single tear slid down her cheek. "Maureen... I.. I'm just tired right now. I shouldn't be talking about this- us, right now."  
She nodded and smiled at him through her tears.   
"Can I come back later? Tomorrow? I really want to make things right between us, Mark." she asked and he smiled back.  
"Of course." he said. She hugged him again, carefully avoiding his bruises and he hugged her back tightly. When they finally pulled apart, Maureen reached up and cupped Mark's cheek gently.  
"Mark, I want you to get out of that loft." she said seriously. "It's obviously not safe for you anymore. Before you tell me for the millionth time that Roger's your bestfriend, I want you to think. Really think about whether or not you want to keep putting yourself through this. Maybe he needs to lose you before he realizes what an asshole he's been. Look, even I'll admit that he was an okay guy before. He loved you. I know that. But now if I could, I'd keep him a mile away from you at all times. You're as stubborn as he can be sometimes. Just take care of yourself, Mark. That's all I'm saying."  
Mark said nothing when she stood up and walked towards the door.  
"Take care of yourself, Mark." she repeated, pausing at the door to look at him one last time. "We'll talk about things.... later. I love you."  
"I love you too, Maureen." he said.   
She flashed him another smile and closed the door behind her as she walked out. He closed his eyes and leaned back again, feeling empty.  
"It's over." he said in quiet disbelief.  
It's really over this time.  
No tears or yelling or fighting.  
Just a simple, five minute conversation and that was it.  
(... we'll talk about things later...)  
Yeah, right, he thought. That's just a euphemism for 'we're pretty much over. Sorry.'  
But it didn't sting as much as it should have and he felt guilty for not feeling more.  
He opened his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair, wincing when his fingers came in contact with the large bump on the back of his head. For a few minutes, he laid there, thinking. Finally, he decided to get up. He slowly swung his legs around to the side of the bed and stood up slowly. His entire body felt stiff and sore and it took him a moment to gather up enough strength to walk to the door.  
  
  
"Collins?" he said hesitantly, as he pushed the door open.   
Collins' tall frame stepped into the livingroom and he hurried towards Mark with a frown.  
"You're supposed to stay in bed, Mark." he said disapprovingly.   
"No, I can't stay still right now." Mark said, leaning against the doorframe. "Can I just sit out here?"  
Collins thought for a moment before holding out his arm for Mark to hold on to.  
"Okay, but you're staying on the couch." he said. "You've suffered a head injury and no matter how slight it is, you have to get some rest."  
Mark smiled at him gratefully and held onto Collins's arm as he was led to the couch. He sat down and winced at the sharp jolt in his head when he landed on the cushion. Collins handed him the remote and looked down at him.  
"You stay right here. I've made some soup and a sandwich for you so you can eat before you have to take the next pill." Collins said, moving back towards the kitchen.   
Mark fingered the remote in his hands and stared at it.   
Where was April?  
Where was Roger?  
What was happening?  
A thought entered Mark's mind and he looked up, even though he was alone in the room.   
"Collins, April didn't stop by or anything while I was asleep, did she?" he asked loudly.  
He heard footsteps as Collins shuffled back into the livingroom. He looked at Mark and then gestured to the small black bag that had been left next to the table near the far end of the couch.  
"I almost forgot about that." Collins said. "April came around two, two thirty, maybe. She dropped off a bag of your stuff and...."  
Mark threw the remote on the table, stood up and headed towards the door.   
"God, Collins why didn't you wake me up?" Mark said reaching for the doorknob. "I have to find her, I have to help her find Roger, I have to see her and..."  
Before Mark could open the door, Collins's arms wrapped themselves over him and drew him back, away from the door. Mark struggled violently in his embrace, trying to wriggle his arms free.  
"Let me go!" Mark cried. "I have to find her, you don't understand!"  
Collins picked him, still in the bear hug and dumped him on the couch. He loomed over Mark and Mark knew he was beaten. Although Collins was sick, he was still five inches taller than Mark and probably weighed almost 20 pounds more. He sat up and looked up at Collins.  
"You don't understand." he repeated softly. "She's out there by herself and... and she's only nineteen and... and..."  
Something in Collins's eyes changed. His expression softened and he sat down next to Mark.   
"Let me go, please?" Mark asked again. "I'll take the pill now and that'll kill the pain and I'll come back in an hour, I promise. One hour to..."  
"You're in love with her." Collins said softly.  
Mark stared at him, feeling his heart pound in his chest.   
He opened his mouth to deny it, to act as if Collins were crazy and to tell him that April was nothing more than a friend he had to help but he couldn't.   
He stared at Collins blankly, trying to will his lips to move but found they wouldn't obey him.   
After a few minutes, Collins sighed and put his hand on Mark's shoulder and Mark gave up trying to lie.  
"Do you think she knows?" Mark asked quietly.  
"I knew from the moment you mentioned her name, Mark. I think even Maureen suspects but you know she'll never admit it. The way you talk about her..." he said with a slight smile. It quickly faded. "But I don't think April knows. In fact, I think she has a lot more on her mind..."  
"Roger."  
"No." Collins shook his head. "I mean, yes, but it's almost an obsession, isn't it? Last week while we were going over what to say and what to do at the intervention... she was practically devouring the pamphlets you gave her to read. She wants to make sure he's okay, almost as if..."  
He trailed off thoughtfully.  
"As if what?" Mark asked.  
Collins shrugged. "I don't know." he said honestly. "She's just a very troubled young girl."  
Mark's hands curled up into fists and he began to grow agitated again.   
"Yes, she's a very troubled young girl who's also out there right now looking for her drug addict boyfriend." he said. "April knows where Roger gets his drugs and she knows where he goes... Collins, I have to find her before... before she gets hurt or someone else finds her."  
"Mark, you could barely make it to the door, how do you expect to walk around the city and find April and Roger?" Collins said. "And you said it yourself, April knows where he gets his drugs and where he hangs out. Do you?"  
Mark shrugged. "I just have to try." he said simply.  
Collins sighed. He stood and picked up his jacket from the corner of the couch.  
"No, you have to rest." Collins said firmly. "I'll look for her if you stay here. You can not leave, Mark."  
Mark's eyes widened and he shook his head.   
"Collins, you're sick, you can't!" Mark exclaimed. "You're in worse shape than I am! You can't go out there and.."  
"I'm in better condition than you're in right now, Mark." Collins said. "I'll be fine. But I do agree- April shouldn't be out there by herself. She strikes me as being very naive despite everything she's been through."  
Mark shook his head but this time his protest was weak.  
"I should be the one to look for her."  
Collins ignored him and buttoned up his jacket. He picked up his hat and pressed it down his head firmly.   
"Stay here, Mark." Collins said, turning to him one last time at the door. "I won't stop searching until I find her and Roger but you have to stay here."  
Mark nodded silently and watched as Collins walked out the door.  
He reached for the bag that April had left him and zipped it open. He uttered a small sound of relief as he pulled out his camera. She had cleaned it up and as Mark peered closely at it, he could see faint scratches on its surface.  
She probably scoured the thing, Mark thought, suddenly remembering April's accident.  
He put the camera aside and dug out a few articles of clothing, his scarf, his toothbrush, deoderant, and...   
He frowned.  
He picked it up slowly while a mixture of pain and joy churned in his stomach.  
It was her book.  
  
  
  
  
"She was at the loft." Collins said before Mark could even open his mouth to speak.  
Mark took a step back and let him walk through the door. April's head lay limp against his shoulder and her legs dangled in the air. Her eyes were shut and her skin was almost perfectly white.  
Mark wanted to grab her, take her from Collins' arms and press her against himself. He wanted to make sure that she was real.   
He had waited for Collins to return home for what seemed to be an eternity.   
Mark had spent the last five hours, pacing back and forth in the livingroom. He would sit down and close his eyes when the dizziness threatened to overwhelm him but he always got back to his feet. He couldn't stay still; couldn't sit still.   
Images, both memory and fantasy, had passed through his mind at light speed.   
Roger's hate-filled face.  
April's hysterical eyes.  
Maureen's bright, blonde curls.  
Collins's sympathetic smile.  
April's white sweater, stained with his blood.  
His own face in the hospital mirror.  
April lying unconscious in a dark alley.  
At one point, Mark had screamed at himself to stop. To stop thinking, stop imagining the horrible things that flooded his brain.   
Finally, his thoughts had faded into a dim white background and he had calmed down, feeling numbed and cold.   
"Is she... is she...?"   
Mark didn't know what he wanted to ask. He shut the door as Collins walked to the bedroom with April in his arms. Mark followed him and walked inside the room just as Collins was setting her down on the bed that Mark had laid in just a few hours before.   
"She's okay. Not great but she's okay." Collins said.   
"She's sleeping?" Mark asked. He looked down at her still body and frowned. She looked like a marble statue of a sleeping figure.   
She wasn't moving.  
Mark moved closer to her and touched her cheek. Her skin was cool.   
"I looked all over the neighborhood for hours." Collins said. "I even ran into a few of his bandmates." Collins' voice was thick with disgust, something Mark rarely heard.  
Mark looked up at his friend.  
"Of course, they wouldn't tell me anything but one of them did say something about Roger's girlfriend running around." Collins glanced back at April. "I went around to almost every club we've been to with him before I finally headed back to the loft. That's where I found the little one."  
"The little one?" Mark's mouth twitched at the corners.  
Collins smiled at him. "Well, she's the smallest one out of all of us, isn't she? Next to you, at least."  
Mark looked back down at April and brushed a few stray strands of hair away from her face.   
"She's the youngest one, too." Mark said quietly.   
"She was sleeping on the couch when I walked in." Collins said after a short pause. "It looked like she had just gotten there. But she was beyond exhausted, Mark. I think she's in a state of shock. It's probably best that we let her sleep for awhile, let her mind recover. I tried to wake her up but she seemed lost. Disoriented. I told her to go back to sleep. There was no way she could have made it here on her feet."  
Mark looked back at Collins, his eyes wide with amazement.   
"God, you carried her all the way here?"  
Collins' smile grew bigger.   
"I'm not God and we took a cab, Mark." he said, hitting him once on the back. "I may be stronger than you but that's not saying much."  
He gestured back at April.   
"Throw some more blankets on her, Mark. They're in the closet, second shelf to the right." Collins said. He walked towards the door and Mark glanced up at him.  
"Collins, wait." he said, standing up straight. "Where are you..."  
"I'm going to take my meds. My pager went off about ten minutes ago." he said, glancing back. "Besides, I don't think you need me to help you take care of her, do you?"  
Mark shook his head and Collins closed the door behind him. He turned back to April and sat down on the edge of the bed, looking at her . Dark blue shadows lined her eyes and her lips were almost as pale as the rest of her face. She looked both old and young; vulnerable and beaten.  
His eyes traveled downwards. The bandage across her palm was now dirty and coming loose. Her shirt and jeans looked filthy and her shoes were covered with dark brown dirt.  
Mark moved towards them and slipped them off of her feet, dropping them down to the floor and then wiping his hands on his pants.  
Dirt, he thought. From the park? Did she go to the park? At this time?   
Shit.  
She could have gotten raped or mugged or worse.  
Mark stood up and walked to the closet. He pulled out a thick looking blanket and spread it out over the bed carefully. He pulled on the edges until it covered her body up to her chest and sat down next to her again.   
Her eyes tightened and her mouth pulled down into a grimace. She turned her head to the side and her hands opened and closed.   
Mark hesitated and then reached forward and gently moved his hand over her hair.   
"Shh, April." he said softly. "It's okay. Shh."  
( ... You always wanted someone to take care of, someone to protect, watch over- it's just your nature....)  
Maureen's words.  
Mark looked down at April and sighed.  
For a moment, he thought she had fallen back into unconsciousness when her eyes suddenly fluttered open. His heart leapt into his throat and for a moment, all he could do was stare at her.  
"Mark?" she said, sounding confused.   
"Yeah, it's me." he said. He bit his lower lip and pulled back his hand from her hair.   
She rubbed her eyes and then struggled to prop herself up on her elbows.   
"Where am I?" she asked, looking around. "I was at the loft and.. and..."  
"Collins found you there." he said, nodding.   
He paused.  
Suddenly Mark felt awkward and strange. He sat up and averted his eyes from her gaze. His eagerness to see her had disappeared and now he felt uncomfortable in her presence. He suddenly got the feeling that she would be angry at finding herself in Collins' apartment instead of at the loft, waiting for Roger.  
"He took you here. To his apartment." Mark said, finally. He stood up and held his breath, expecting a cry of protest. He was sure she was going to stand up to try and fight her way outside.  
Instead, she leaned back down on the pillow and stared at the ceiling.  
"I'm so tired, Mark."  
He was instantly worried.  
"Go back to sleep, April." he said. "I'll get you a glass of milk. Tea. Something warm. It'll help you sleep."  
She waved her hand dismissively and sat up again.  
"No. I don't want that." she said quietly. "But I do want to go back to sleep."  
"Okay." He moved towards the door. "I'll be outside then, if you..."  
"Mark."  
He stopped and turned around. She looked at him and Mark thought she looked nervous. Scared.  
"Yeah?"  
"Don't leave me alone. Please? Not right now." she said softly. She held out her unwounded hand and for a moment, Mark stared at it without understanding, not willing himself to believe.   
"Mark, please? Just until I fall asleep?"  
He moved towards her silently and took her hand. Her cold, slim fingers pulled him down onto the bed next to her and he shivered when his bare arm brushed against her skin.   
She was so cold.  
He slid one arm around her waist and she pressed her cheek against his chest. One hand clutched at the sleeve of his shirt and the other one, the one with the cut, she kept pressed firmly against her own chest. He felt her legs move against his and he took a deep breath, trying his best to control his furiously beating heart. For a long time they lay there, quiet and still, and Mark found himself slowly growing comfortably warm.  
After awhile, he closed his eyes and tilted his head downward so that his chin was touching the top of her head. He almost raised his hand to take off his glasses but found that he was too tired to move.  
And soon, without even meaning to, he fell asleep.  
  
  
  
He woke up in darkness and for a moment he panicked, not knowing where he was. He blinked rapidly, moving his eyes around until he found a small source of light.  
01:33 A.M.  
The red light of Collins' digital clock flashed the time and Mark relaxed. He heard the sound of soft, deep breaths and relaxed even more. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light and shadows, he moved away from the sleeping source of warmth next to him and peered down.  
Was it his imagination or had April's cheeks grown slightly pink? Her breathing sounded easy and even, miles away from the ragged cough she had adopted for the past few months.  
She was okay. He was okay. Everything was okay.  
That's not true! a voice in his mind screamed.  
Mark moaned softly as the voice became louder.  
Nothing is okay, Mark, and you know it!  
Where did April go?  
His guilt answered for him.  
She went to go find Roger, Mark. She risked her own safety, her own health, her own sanity to find Roger.  
And where were you?  
Mark closed his eyes and clenched his jaw though it hurt him to do so.  
Yes and where were you, Mark? the voice asked maliciously.  
Where were you while she was out there getting dirt on her shoes?  
And where's Roger, Mark? Did you even spare him one thought while you were sitting here, nice and safe, worrying about his girlfriend?  
Tears filled his eyes and spilled down his cheeks, dampening the pillow beneath his face.  
Why are you still here, Mark?   
Why is April sleeping in your arms?  
Why?  
Why?  
Why.  
April shifted next to him, uttering a sound of discomfort. Mark looked down and realized that his grip on her had tightened considerably. He forced himself to pull his arm away from her and sat up.  
"Please, no." he sobbed, covering his swollen mouth. "P-Please st-st-stop."  
You should be out there looking for him, the voice of his guilt went on.   
Not in here, not with her.  
Mark wiped his face and crept out of the bed as carefully as he could. He bit his tongue, trying to control the rest of the sobs that threatened to come out. He stood on the opposite side of the bed where April lay. With a heavy heart, he took a pillow that had been pushed aside and placed it in her arms; he didn't want her to sleep with nothing to hold. He stared at her for a moment, studying her face.   
"I love you, April." he whispered, knowing that she couldn't hear him.   
He turned around and opened the door into the livingroom.  
Outside, the livingroom was bright and cheerful. Mark looked around, looking for traces of Collins and found a note on the kitchen counter.  
  
Mark,  
Stayed over a friend's house for the night. You and April have run of my place until tomorrow.   
We'll go to the police station tomorrow and find Roger.  
-T.C  
PS- Don't leave the apartment!  
PPS- Take care of each other.  
  
  
Mark put the note down and walked towards the couch where he had left the bag of clothes April had brought. He pulled out a sweater and pulled it over the one he wore. He took his scarf and wrapped it tightly around his neck. He pushed up his glasses with his finger and looked back at the bedroom door.   
Go now before you change your mind, the voice warned.  
He picked up his camera, made sure that there was film in it, and headed out the front door into the cold, cold night. 


	8. Ch. 8- Dealer's Choice

Disclaimer: Same old. Not my characters- they all belong to Jonathan Larson.  
A/N: This chapter is so full of cliches and overused material... but it's sorta fun to *see* Mark interacting with other people besides the group.   
And, uh, gee, Mark gets beat up a lot in this story.  
R/R please!  
  
  
Ch. 8- Dealer's Choice  
  
Mark shivered violently as he walked slowly down the street. The snow fall had stopped but the melting ice underneath his worn sneakers made walking a very difficult action.   
He hugged his camera close to his chest and forced himself to stay alert.  
The cold air made his eyes sting and his mouth throb harder but he pushed the pain aside and looked around.  
( "You gotta look tough, Mark. Pretend that nothing scares you. That's how you walk down the street without anyone bothering you or trying to rough you up." )  
Mark smiled unconsciously at the memory of Roger's voice.   
He had said that the first month Mark came to the city. Right after Mark had gotten mugged for the first time. He had been around the same age as April was now. Roger had stomped out of the loft when Mark came home, bloody and bruised. He swore that he was going to find the bastard that had knocked him down and taken the $50 bill in his pocket.   
Two hours later, Roger had come through the door, the fifty in one hand and a bloodied rag wrapped around the other.   
( "Punk wouldn't give it up without a fight. So I made sure he got one." )  
Roger had acted tough but Mark had seen the look of concern in his eyes. Underneath the stupid tough-guy act that Roger always put up in front of people, Mark knew that Roger loved his friends.  
He fought for you, Mark, the voice piped up in his mind.   
He's always been willing to fight for you.  
( "Because that's what friends do. No questions asked." )  
You owe him your life.  
"I know." Mark said out loud. His breath came out in wisps of smoke that trailed off in the air.   
He turned the corner and stopped.  
Home.  
The building he had called home loomed before him like a haunted house. Without really knowing it, without really meaning to, he had walked all the way to his block from Collins' apartment building.  
"Christ, how many miles have I been walking?" he asked himself. He stood still and surveyed the streets with his eyes. Only a few homeless people were out braving the chill and Mark felt a pang of deep sadness as he watched one bent over figure scuttle down the street.  
With only a dim part of his mind knowing it, Mark flicked on his camera and brought it up to his eye.  
"Denizens of the night." he said softly, just loud enough for the microphone on his camera to pick up. "We're practically kin, I'm only one small step above being out here with them. Who were these people, before they ended up out here? What kind of lives did they have before some weird twist of fate plucked them from their homes to this alien territory? What weird twist of fate prevented me from being in their shoes?"  
Another dark figure shuffled across the street.  
"Or was fate saving another kind of hell for me?" he asked. "My own private, made to fit torture. One specially designed to break Mark Cohen down. And it isn't poverty or hunger that can break me down. It's watching the people I love destroyed and knowing that I can't do a damn thing to stop it."  
"Hey, camera boy, I'm ready for my close up!"  
Mark whirled around, nearly losing his balance. In front of him stood a woman.  
Oh God, she's a prostitute, Mark thought, feeling afraid.  
She wore a short demin skirt and tight white shirt underneath a flimsy faux fur coat. She looked at Mark with a small, feline smile but her eyes were the dazed and hollow gaze of a junkie.  
"What?!" Mark's voice had reached an all time high and he screeched at her like a hurt cat.  
She giggled into her palm, an odd, girlish move that suddenly reminded him of April and he froze.  
"Don't have a heart attack, sweetie." she said, grinning. "I was just wondering if you needed a little bit of lovin' tonight, you know? A little comfort, maybe? After all, it's a cold night."  
Mark shook his head violently and took a step back.  
"N-N-No." he stammered.  
She moved towards him, amused.   
"Don't be afraid. I ain't gonna bite." she said. She arched one eyebrow and looked at him with a cold, calculating gaze. "I'll even do you for free this time, pretty boy. You're a helluva lot better looking than most of the guys around here."   
Mark shook his head again, feeling his eyes grow wide. Suddenly a thought struck him and he forced himself to stand still and fight the urge to run.  
"Actually, I need a fix." he said in a strangled voice. The woman stared at him and Mark knew that she didn't believe him.   
"Oh. Really?" she said, the smile disappearing from her dark red painted lips.   
They stared at each other for a moment and Mark took another step back when she stopped him.  
"You don't look like one of us, babe." she said. Mark made his face expressionless and shrugged.  
"I'm new."  
She gestured to his camera.   
"Not desperate enough to sell that piece of shit for a fix?"  
Mark's hand tightened around his camera and he hid it behind his back.  
"I just moved here last month. This is all I have left." he said, amazed at the calm sound of his voice.  
She shook her head. "You look like a choir boy. Fuck it. Luke's in the park at this time. You're not one of his regs, are you? Tell him Anna sent you and he'll give it to you for a little less."  
Mark nodded and turned around before she could say anything else. He hurried down the street, meaning to head straight to the park but stopped in front of his building. He meant to give it only a passing glance but instead, began to climb the stone steps up to the door.   
For some reason, he had to see the loft.  
( "There was blood on the floor... on the walls..." )  
  
  
  
He stopped when he reached the loft door.  
Mark took a deep breath to steady himself and pushed the door open, knowing instinctively that it wouldn't be locked.  
The loft was dank and dark and Mark almost gagged. The air was noxious. He took a step inside and looked around, blinking, before remembering to turn on the lights.   
The loft looked exactly as it had when April had dragged him out of it, bleeding and hurt, two days ago. The only difference was that she had cleaned her blood off the table and floor. His blood, however, was still smeared on the wall and a trail of it lead halfway towards the door.   
Mark's eyes grew hot and his head began to pound as he looked around the room. There was April's sweater, slung across the back of the chair. There was Roger's guitar case, open and empty on the floor.  
There was his tripod in the corner.   
It looked like an abandoned stage, waiting for the players to come back for another scene.  
Mark took a step forward and then another and then another... his feet felt heavy and strange and when he finally made it to the couch, he fell down on it like a log.   
"It doesn't feel like home anymore." he said outloud. "I don't ever want to be in here again."  
When Roger gets better, we'll all move out, me and April and Roger....  
Somewhere, anywhere but here.   
"If I can find Roger." he muttered, interrupting his thoughts. His eyes looked down on the floor and spotted a yellow, crumpled piece of paper. He bent down and reached for it on impulse.  
It was a post-it note. An address had been scrawled on it with blue ink..  
Mark recognized April's childish handwriting...  
( "God, April, you write like a twelve year old. What's with the little hearts and circles over the i's?"   
Roger had laughed once.  
"Yeah, well at least I know how to write!" she had snapped back, trying to hide her smile.)  
...the swirls and curves of each letter reminded him of her so strongly that he stared at them for a moment.  
I left her alone, he thought grimly. What if she wakes up and doesn't know where she is?  
What if she decides to look for Roger again?  
Who'll be there to stop her?   
Mark stood up and shoved the paper in his back pocket. He walked to his room and put his camera in a shoebox. He took the shoebox and shoved it to the farthest, darkest corner of his closet and then covered it with dirty bankets and clothing. He didn't know why he was hiding it, he only knew that he didn't want anyone to take it from him when he went outside again.  
( "Luke's in the park at this time. You're not one of his regs, are you? Tell him Anna sent you and he'll give it to you for a little less." )  
There was dirt on April's shoes, he thought, walking to the front door.   
She went to the park and then she went back here.   
How long had that piece of paper had been on the floor? he asked himself.  
Before or after she came back here?  
The address on it might be meaningless or ....  
Or it might be where Roger's at, he told himself, walking slowly down the stairs.   
But the dirt on her shoes, the voice countered.  
He opened the door to the outside and was hit with a cold blast of night air. Instantly, Mark began to shiver violently and he rubbed his hands up and down his arms. He looked up and down the street, trying to decide which way to go.  
The address led him downtown but the park was uptown.  
"Dealer's choice." he said outloud.  
He walked uptown.  
  
He was leaning against a lamp post, smoking a cigarette. It looked like a scene from "The Exorcist"- the light was shining directly down on the man but still he was covered in shadows. The air around him seemed heavy with moisture and Mark could see little particles of dust floating around in the light.   
He knew that this was him. Luke or whatever the fuck his name was. Roger's dealer. Something in Mark screamed that this was The Man.  
Mark stood behind the tree, in the darkness, and watched him cautiously, feeling his hands grow damp with fear.   
All I have to do is ask him, Mark thought.   
Just ask where Roger is and then walk away.  
It won't be that easy and you know it, Mark.  
Mark rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses and fought the urge to scream. There were too many conflicting voices in this head, too many opposing thoughts and feelings and Mark felt abused by all of them.   
He leaned against the cold bark of the tree and closed his eyes, wishing and praying that everything would just go away.   
He almost lost his nerve.  
"I could just go back to Collins' place right now." he whispered, opening his eyes. "April's probably still sleeping. She wouldn't have to know I was gone. She'd wake up to me and be safe and...and..."  
He stopped.  
"And nothing. She wouldn't give a fuck about whether or not I was there when she woke up." he said.   
He took a step away from his hiding place and moved towards the man.  
The Man, with a capital T and M.  
"Hey." Mark said hoarsely when he was close. His heart seemed to pound at an incredible rate and he tried to slow it down by taking deep breaths.   
The Man took another puff on his cigarette and took no notice of Mark. Mark shoved his hands into his pockets and waited patiently, not really sure of what to do. Was he being ignored on purpose or did The Man just not hear him?  
"Hey." Mark said a little louder. He wondered briefly if he should have said 'hello' or 'hi there' but decided he was being stupid.   
After a few minutes of more silence, Mark stepped right in front of The Man and moved one hand in a small wave.  
"Um, excuse me." he said. The Man shifted slightly and for the first time, Mark saw his face.  
It was his face.   
Mark's face.  
His face in the face of a drug dealer.  
The same shade of blue eyes, the same pale, delicate features, even the same thin strands of golden blonde hair peeking out from underneath the baseball cap he wore.   
Except there was a coldness, a deep and frigid chill in The Man's eyes as he appraised Mark quietly. This was what Mark would have looked like if he hadn't been so weak, if he didn't have a Roger to protect him.  
"Fuck off." The Man said, looking away.   
Mark didn't move away- he couldn't.  
"I'm looking for someone." he said. "R-R-Roger. Roger Davis."  
The Man chuckled and he threw his cigarette down on the ground. The butt landed an inch from Mark's feet.   
"R-R-Right." The Man said, mocking Mark. "Look, I don't deal in information so you can just turn around, shove your scarf between your legs and go right back to mommy."  
"Have you seen him? Do you know what direction he was going in? That's all I need to know." Mark insisted.   
A glint of something -irritation, probably- flickered in The Man's eyes. He leaned forward and with one hand, knocked Mark's glasses off of his face. Mark felt a wave of panic and fear as his world became instantly blurry and dark. He fell to his knees and patted the cold, icy ground in search of his glasses. He could hear The Man laughing above him and he could feel the knees of his pants growing uncomfortably wet but still he searched for his glasses.  
He suddenly felt a gust of wind in front of his face and he heard a faint clatter from a few feet away and he realized that The Man, that asshole, had kicked his glasses further away.  
"Fuck off, kid." Mark heard him say and then the laughing grew louder.   
( "I told you to stay out of my fucking life! That's what I said Mark! I told you to fuck off!!" )  
Roger's words.  
Mark crawled towards where the sound had been and felt the melting snow slosh underneath his legs. He tried not to cry, really really tried not to let the tears slip from his eyes and onto the ground but failed. He sniffed and continued to pat the ground. He heard footsteps approaching and before he could raise his head in their direction, he felt a sharp, intense pain in his stomach.  
Mark uttered a small, surprised sound and clutched himself, falling down to the ground in agony.   
"Stupid fucking kid." The Man said before he kicked Mark again.   
This time, the shock of the first kick had worn off and took with it any protection from the pain. Mark sobbed and he felt The Man's hands on him, searching through his pockets looking for anything that might be of value. When he found nothing, he uttered a sound of disgust and kicked Mark in the back.   
Mark didn't even flinch or recoil. His body was just one big, throbbing pain and he lay on his side, in the muddy dirt and cried. This time there was no April to save him. No Roger to protect him. No Collins to clean him up and take care of him. Mark was all alone and he just wanted it all to end now. Just wanted to die and make the pain stop.  
"Christ." The Man said. His voice held a mixture of surprise and revoltion. "Crying on the fucking ground like a baby."  
"Hey, asshole! Get the fuck away from him!"   
Mark choked back a sob and squeezed his eyes shut. He was hallucinating now, imagining voices.  
He heard another set of footsteps running towards him and then a scuffle, a thud and then a scream that was cut off.  
"Don't you fucking touch him again!"   
Mark moved his head so that his cheek touched the cold ground. He wanted to go to sleep now. Forget dying. Sleep was better. He felt himself slipping into a deeper blackness, a void darker than what the inside of his eyelids could provide.   
But before he could fall away into unconsciousness, he felt himself being pulled up, way up, into a sitting position.  
"Mark, open your eyes."  
Mark felt something being pushed into his face.  
His glasses.  
"Come on, Mark, open your fucking eyes!"  
Mark opened his eyes and almost screamed.  
Roger. 


	9. Ch. 9- Tell Her

A/N: Same old disclaimer stuff.   
Okay, so if you look back at the first chapter, April dies on February 5th. It is now January 31st (?) in this story. So the story is going to start sloooowing down. Yeah. Okay. Read and review!   
  
Chapter 9- Tell Her  
  
"Mark, are you cool, man?" Roger asked, shaking him roughly a few times. "Mark! Say something!"  
"Where've you been?" Mark said.   
He put his hands on Roger's chest and shoved him away as hard as he could. Roger's eyes grew wide with surprise and Mark got to his feet, feeling sick and nauseated. He pushed his arm against his stomach and took shallow breaths. When the pain had lessened a little, Mark hobbled over to the nearest tree and fell against it heavily.  
He looked up and down the path and saw that the dealer, The Man, was gone.  
Mark felt mean, like a puppy that had been teased one too many times. It was uncharacteristic, this anger he felt, but Mark felt good. It was an adrenaline rush. Without it, he didn't think he could move, much less speak. He didn't feel like himself anymore- he didn't feel like the weak, frightened little Mark he had been just an hour ago.  
This anger made him feel... different.  
Mark looked up when he heard Roger walking towards him and glared at him. He felt so much pissed off energy directed towards Roger that it made the pain his body was going through seem almost nonexistent.  
Almost.  
"What the fuck is wrong with you!" Roger screamed at him. "I saved your fucking life back there and this is the fucking thanks I get?!"  
"You almost killed me a few days ago!" Mark screamed back. He felt a stab of pain rush through his gut but he ignored it. "Why didn't you let that guy, your DEALER, just finish me off?"  
The now familiar insanity entered Roger's eyes and Mark waited for him to strike out again. Although the night was freezing cold, Roger wore only a t-shirt and jeans. His arms were slick with snow and his hair and face were dirty. Mark noticed that Roger's entire body seemed to be shaking but he was sweating heavily.   
The look in Roger's eyes faded and he stared at Mark with an expression of pure misery.  
"I..I'm sorry, Mark." Roger said softly. "I don't know what happened. I just... snapped that night."  
Mark touched his face with his hand and felt the stitches on his lip.   
"You did this to me, Roger." he said. He pulled down his scarf and the collar of his sweater with vehemence. "And this. See my neck? My fucking jaw? You did this to me!"  
Roger's face twitched as if all his features were held together by an invisible string.   
He took a step towards Mark.   
"I know." Roger said. His voice cracked and it sounded as if he were on the edge of breaking down. "I'm sorry."  
"Where the fuck have you been, Roger?" Mark asked. He lowered his arm. "All this time, where have you been?"  
"With friends." But the way Roger's eyes flickered down told Mark he was lying.   
"We're your friends, Roger." Mark said. "Me, Collins, Maureen... April."  
At the mention of her name, Roger looked back up and stared at Mark.  
"How is she?" he asked in a whisper.   
"Bad. Tired." Mark said. "Collins says she may be in shock. That's where she's at. At his apartment. Sleeping."  
Roger nodded and wiped the sweat forming on his brow.  
"She's been looking for you, Roger. To the point of exhaustion." Mark went on. "Where the fuck have you been?"  
"Christ, I told you I was with friends!" Roger screamed out suddenly. He gripped the sides of his head and closed his eyes shut in an almost comical parody of fury.   
Mark waited.  
It wasn't as if he had a choice anyway.  
The adrenaline rush was fading.  
He didn't think he could stand up on his own, at least not in the next few minutes. He felt as if the lower part of his torso was surrounded by a steel fence that grew tighter and tigher with each passing breath. If he had a choice, he would have walked away, back into the night, back into Collins' apartment. He suddenly didn't care about what happened to Roger anymore. He was in too much torment to care. All he wanted to do was crawl into Collins' nice warm bed and have April sleep against him for, oh, eternity.  
But Mark couldn't move so he waited.  
Finally Roger lowered his hands and opened his eyes.  
"She looked for you for two days, Roger." Mark said quietly. "She didn't sleep and I don't think she ate either. For two days."  
"I know."  
"How the hell would you know anything about what April's been through?" Mark asked, irritated.  
"Because she found me."  
Mark felt his jaw drop and he gawked at Roger.   
"She.... what? When? She...?" .  
"She found me here. I was trying to buy this morning and she... she found me." Roger said. His voice had become so soft that it was nearly inaudible. "I tried to run when I saw her but she ran after me. I... I said a few things I shouldn't have. And she..."  
Mark stood up straight.  
"What did you say?"  
Roger shook his head and his eyes pleaded with Mark but Mark wasn't going to let him go.  
"Roger, what did you say?"  
"I told her that I..." Roger shivered again. He wiped his face with the back of his hand. "I told her to get away from me. I told her that I hated her. That I wished I never met her. I told her that all she was good for was money and a good fuck and that now, she wasn't even good enough for that."  
Mark stared at him, incredulous.  
"Christ, Mark, the look on her face was..." Roger shook his head and groaned. "She didn't cry or say anything. Just looked at me like... like she didn't know who I was. She walked away and... and I..."  
"You don't deserve her." Mark said coldly.   
"I know." Roger said. The trembling had intensified. "I-I haven't had a fix in almost a day. M-Maybe eight... nine hours. That's the longest I haven't, you know, and I want to tell her that I'm sorry. Mark, I'm really trying to stop. A day without it is hard but I'm trying. I'm quitting now, Mark. For her and you and everyone. I swear."  
Roger was going through withdrawal.  
Mark felt like hitting him. April's face drifted into his mind -her still, peaceful, sleeping face- and Mark was furious.   
"That's bullshit." Mark said. "Complete bullshit. You haven't been staying with friends, have you? How'd you get here so fast, Roge? Why were you in the park in the first place?"  
Roger's eyes widened.  
"You were here to shoot up, that's why!" Mark screamed. His body flared out in protest, sending shockwaves of hurt through his stomach and chest and Mark winced, clutching his stomach again.   
But he went on.  
"You were here to buy from that guy, weren't you? Admit it, Roger! You were here to buy whatever shit that guy was going to sell you and you were going to shoot up! That's why you were here!"  
"This is where I've been staying!" Roger screamed back. "I've been sleeping here, Mark!"  
Mark was stunned to silence and he watched as the invisible string that held Roger's face together snapped. Roger started to cry, to weep, and Mark stood there, watching him.  
"I couldn't go back to the loft." Roger said, wiping his face with his grimy hands. "I was scared that April... that she would be there and she'd see me and...but I swear to you, I haven't taken that shit in nine hours. Fuck, it feels like nine days..."  
Roger suddenly began to cough, an explosive, painful coughing fit that lasted a minute or two.  
The sound reminded Mark of April.  
He remembered the night he had woken up to her coughing outside his bedroom.  
What if she's waking up right now? Mark thought.  
What if she gets up, calls out my name, calls out Collins' name and realizes that we left her alone?  
Correction- I left her alone.  
What then?  
He knew he had to push whatever he felt aside and get Roger to April.  
He would deal with everything else- later.  
Mark stood up but he couldn't quite straighten his body up without the tree for support. He looked at Roger who was shaking violently now and Mark wondered how the hell Roger could have beaten up the man, no- The Man, in his condition.  
"Let's go. We have to go now before she wakes up." Mark said but Roger stared at him as if he had no idea what Mark was talking about.  
"Roger, we have to go."   
Roger shook his head and took a step back. He looked frightened.  
"I-I-I can't, Mark." he stammered. "I can't go with you. Not right now."  
"And why not?"  
"Look at me, Mark." Roger said. "I'm all fucked up. And the things I said to her. She won't want to see me. I don't want her to see me like this."  
Mark looked at him, feeling the first twinges of pity. The last drop of his anger dissipated and with it, Mark's defenses. Roger looked sincere and he sounded sincere and Mark could almost feel the remorse coming off of Roger in waves.   
"Do you really think April cares about what you look like?" Mark asked, not unkindly. "She'll be happy just to see you. Just to know you're okay..."  
"I am NOT okay!" Roger screamed out suddenly.   
"She isn't either." Mark said quietly, in contrast. "But she will be if you're there with her. All she wants is you, Roger. In whatever condition."  
Roger's face twitched again and he took another step back.  
"Mark, I can't." he said. "All the things I said to her.... I don't want her to see me like...I know she hates me..."  
"Dammit, Roger, I see you right now and I don't hate you." Mark said. "And you're the reason the wall in the loft has a new coat of my blood on it!"  
Mark stopped himself before his frustration could speak for him again. He took a deep breath, though it hurt, and let it out slowly. Mark thought about the old Roger, his bestfriend and not the junkie, and it was enough. When he spoke next, his voice was once again quiet but not soft.   
"Roge, I love you. I forgive you for... for what happened, for what you did. April loves you too, Roger. What you said to her, those were just... words. Only words. She's been looking for you at the expense of her own health. She didn't care if she got hurt, all she wanted to do was to find you. If you don't think that April could forgive you for saying something she knows you didn't really mean, then maybe you don't know her as well as you think you do. She loves you. You have to know that."  
Roger looked at Mark and Mark knew he wanted to believe.   
Roger looked like he was ready to go with Mark.   
He just needed a push.  
"She loves you, Roger." Mark said. "Do you love her?"  
Roger nodded without hesitation.  
"Then you have to come back with me. Because if she thinks that you're still out in the city somewhere, she won't stop looking for you no matter what I say. Do you want her to come out here and look for you again?"  
"No." It came out in a ragged whisper. "God, no."  
Mark held out his hand and Roger looked at it blankly.  
"We have to get to Collins' apartment before she wakes up."  
Mark saw Roger's hand twitch and he knew, absolutely knew, that Roger would take a step forward and grab his hand and....  
But he didn't.  
Roger took two steps back and Mark pushed himself away from the tree.   
"Roger, don't."  
"Tell her I love her, Mark." Roger said, taking another step back. "Tell her not to look for me. I'll find her when I'm... when I'm better. I just can't let her see me like this. Tell her I love her. And that I'm sorry. Please?"  
"Tell her yourself, Roger." Mark said, taking babysteps towards him. "Roger, don't do this! Don't run away again!"  
But Roger was already backing away, each step growing larger and larger.  
"Just... tell her, Mark. Okay? I'll come and see you both. In a week. Maybe. Tell her anything, any excuse. But tell her I love her."  
And before Mark could say anything else, Roger turned around and ran into the night.  
For awhile, Mark looked after him in disbelief.   
He left, Mark thought. He left again.  
"Roger!" Mark screamed out. He pressed his arm against his stomach, pushing the pain back. "ROGER!"  
But there was no reply.  
  
  
Mark walked into Collins' apartment feeling as if he were already dead.  
It had taken him nearly two hours to walk back and he had been on the verge of collapsing at least a dozen times. Thankfully the streets were nearly empty and still dark enough to provide him the anonymity he wanted. His clothes were a mess and for the first mile or so, he had led a wet trail of mud and other debris from the park behind him. He was cold and hungry and tired- too tired to even get his camera from the loft.  
He turned on the lights and slipped off his sneakers, kicking them to a corner with his feet.   
"Collins?" Mark whispered loudly. He knew it was far too early for Collins to be home but he still called out.  
He was answered by silence.  
He walked to the bedroom and though he hadn't prayed in years, he uttered a short plea to God that April would be in bed, still asleep.  
Let April be inside, please God, let April still be here and I swear I'll go to service every single day of my life, Mark thought as he forced each leg to propel him forward  
He pushed the door open and felt faint.  
"Thank you." Mark said out loud. He sank to the floor and almost cried with relief. "Thank you thank you thank you."  
At the sound of his voice, April shifted in her sleep and made a small sound of an interrupted sleeper. Mark held his breath, not wanting to make another sound and crawled on the floor towards her. He was too weak to get up again and he used the last of his strength to move to the head of the bed.  
April's hand was dangling over the side of the bed and Mark took it and pressed it to his lips. She was wonderfully warm and Mark moaned, feeling her soft hand against his cold, cold face.   
It comforted him beyond words.  
He wanted to push himself up and lay down on the bed next to her. Wanted so badly to hold her and just turn off his mind and body for a few hours.  
But I'm dirty, he thought sadly. I'm too dirty to touch her, to be next to her. I should stay on the floor. This is where I belong anyway. This is where I....  
Without letting go of her hand, Mark slumped against the bed and blacked out. 


	10. Ch. 10- Lies

A/N: Same old disclaimer stuff. All characters belong to Jonathan Larson. No point in anyone suing me.   
This chapter is veeeeery long (hence, the plethora of e's.) The little sticky-sweetness in the middle of the chapter is just something I felt like throwing in there- a bit of April/Mark interaction.  
  
  
  
Chapter 10- Lies  
  
  
Mark woke up when April pulled her hand away.  
He jerked back, gasped at the sudden loss and opened his eyes.   
"April, no." he groaned, before he really knew what was happening. All he knew was that his hand felt horribly cold and empty and he started to panic without any real thought behind it.  
"Mark?"   
She slid down on the floor next to him. Her arms gently wound themselves around him and he fell into them gratefully. The events of the night before flew back into his mind at lightspeed and he choked back a sob.  
"Mark, shh." she murmured. Her hand rubbed his back. "It's okay. You're okay."  
"No." he said.   
He pressed his face against the warm curve of her neck and breathed her in. She hugged him tighter and his ribs ached with the pressure. He whimpered softly but pushed himself against her even more, afraid to be let go.  
"Mark, it's okay." he heard April's voice murmur into his ear. "You fell asleep on the floor, that's all. You're okay."  
He nodded into her hair, not really listening, only taking in the comfort of her voice and touch.   
After awhile she pushed him away and Mark let her go reluctantly but without protest.   
She looked him over and frowned.   
"Mark, what happened to you?" she asked.   
Mark looked down at his clothes and felt his ears burn with shame and embarrassment. His pants were torn and stained with dried mud and his sweater felt like steel wool against his skin. He felt as if his entire body was coated with dirt.  
April reached up and Mark felt her pull something out of his hair.  
She handed him a small twig.  
"Where'd you go, Mark?" she asked softly. "What happened to you?"  
He wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.  
"Mark."  
"I... um, I just.."  
Half truths and full-out lies spun in his mind and he sat, staring at the twig in his hands, trying to decide what to tell her.  
"You went out." she said after a long pause.  
"Well, I.... yeah, I did." he said.   
Her eyes strayed down to the bottom of his pants. Mark tucked his legs in self-consciously.  
"You went to Central Park." she said softly.   
Mark nodded, feeling sick.  
"Did you find him?"  
I should tell her the truth, Mark thought. Tell her I found Roger and that...  
And that he ran away again?  
No, I can't tell her that, Mark decided.   
I shouldn't tell her I found him at all. Just that I spent the night looking but never ran into him....  
But how will she know that he's sorry?  
She needs to hear that, needs to know that Roger still loves her and that he never meant what he said about her.  
But then she'd know that he ran away from us, from her, again.  
"Mark, did you find him?" she asked again. Mark finally raised his eyes and nodded.  
"Yeah, he was there." Mark said. "He, uh.. I... we..."  
He turned his head away and stared hard at Collins' bedside table. The red numbers of his clock flashed at him like an accusation in digital lights.  
7:47 A.M.  
"Mark, please." April said. She touched his face and slowly pulled it back towards her.  
"Tell me, Mark. Did he say anything to you? Where is he? Mark, please?"  
Her eyes.  
It was her eyes that undid him.   
That look.   
That innocent yet jaded, hopeful yet hopeless expression in her eyes that made Mark feel lower than low. But still... they were such pretty eyes- despite the pain they reflected. Such beautiful eyes- despite the ever growing misery that lurked in their depths.  
Mark had chronicled the growth of that shadow through his lens.  
It was at that moment Mark made his decision.  
He took a deep breath and told the biggest lie had had ever told in his life.  
Mark closed his eyes so that he wouldn't have to look into her eyes.   
"I found him. We talked. For a long time. And... and I took him to the clinic I went to before the intervention."   
His head began to spin.  
"I took him to get help, April. He's in rehab now."  
  
  
  
Mark scrubbed his body as hard as he could.   
He wanted all the lies he had told to wash away and spiral down into the drain along with the rest of the dirt that had been on him. The shower water was as hot as he could stand but he wanted it hotter.  
Now, not only was he a failure and a betrayer- he was also a liar.  
( "Mark, are you serious? Oh Mark, are you serious? He's in rehab?" )  
She had looked so fucking happy....  
( "I called Benny and he said he'd pay for it. Everything will be okay now, April." )  
Her eyes had looked so....  
Mark leaned his head against the tiles and tilted his head up, letting the hot water run over his face. His arms were weary from the relentless scrubbing he had inflicted on his body and every single muscle seemed to throb.  
There was a large bruise across his stomach and he was sure that another one was forming on his lower back.  
Just more to add to my collection, Mark thought bitterly.   
His scalp burned. He had shampooed three times, scraping his fingernails across his head, trying to cleanse his mind of all his thoughts and memories.  
But it was all in vain.  
( "When can I see him, Mark? I want to go now. Please? I really need to see him." )  
Oh God, her face...  
( "Um, he's not allowed visitors. Yet. I'm sorry, April." )  
I haven't seen her smile like that in months....  
( "Mark, you're such a good friend. Roger's so lucky to have you. So am I." )  
When she finds out I lied to her....  
( "He wanted to tell you... he told me to tell you that he loves you. And that he's sorry for everything." )   
She won't find out, Mark thought. I'll just have to find Roger and drag him to rehab before she finds out.  
Sure.  
Why not?  
"Easier said than done." he muttered out loud. "After that, I can start on ending world hunger."  
The water began to grow cold and Mark turned the water off. He grabbed the towel he had flung across the curtain rod and dried himself off as quickly as he could.   
He didn't want to see or touch his body.   
He stared at the tiles as he drew the towel around his waist and ran his fingers through his wet hair. He picked his glasses up from the sink and wiped them quickly with his hand before slipping them on.  
He didn't bother to look in the mirror.  
Mark opened the door and shivered as he stepped into the cool air of the livingroom.  
He blinked in surprise.  
The room was flooded with morning sunlight and it made everything seem cheery and bright. April had drawn back the curtains and Mark smelled something good cooking from the kitchen. His stomach growled, coming alive with the anticipation of food.  
He turned his head towards the kitchen and listened.  
She was humming.  
It made him feel horrible.  
He turned around to walk to the bedroom when April hopped out of the kitchen.  
"You were in there for almost half an hour!" she said, giggling. "I thought you fell asleep in there or something."  
Mark stared at her in amazement.   
She had pulled her hair back into a ponytail and it hung down her back, amazingly shiny and thick. Her cheeks were pink and her mouth was turned up in a half grin. She was wearing one of his sweaters and both sleeves hung past her hands.  
She had changed so much within the space of one hour.   
She looked so alive and...  
Happy, Mark thought. She's happy.   
God, please just give her this moment to be happy.  
Don't take it away from her again.  
Let it last.  
Please.  
"That's my sweater." he said, not really recognizing his voice. He stared at the loose threads that hung from the frayed sleeves.  
April blushed, deepening the color in her cheeks. Her eyes grew shy but the smile lingered on her lips.  
"Sorry." she said, walking towards him. "I didn't have anything to wear and I got cold and..."  
"It's okay." he muttered, trying to smile back but failing. "It looks better on you then it does on me anyway."  
She giggled again and her eyes traveled down his body. The smile quickly disappeared as she stared at his torso.  
"Mark...?"  
He looked down and jerked back. He had forgotten that he was still half naked, that his body was exposed. Mark was thin and his ribs jutted out like wooden sticks on his body. But that wasn't the worst aspect of him.  
The bruise spanned across his stomach, darkening his pale skin to an ugly, freakish blue-black.   
April stared at him and Mark drew his arms around his waist in an effort to hide. He backed up towards the bedroom door and winced when his back hit the frame.  
"Oh, Mark, you poor thing..." April said, moving towards him but he shook his head violently.  
"N-no." he stammered, trying to find the doorknob with one hand and covering himself with the other. "Just d-don't. Stay there."   
"But Mark, you're hurt."  
His hand finally found the doorknob and he almost fell inside the room when he pushed the door open. As quickly as he could move, he slammed the door shut and locked it.  
A few seconds later, he heard her tap meekly on the door.  
"Mark?"  
"I'm getting dressed." he called out, trying to stop the quiver in his voice. "I'll be right out."  
"Mark, what happened to you?"  
Mark grabbed his clothes from the bag without really looking at them and dressed himself hurriedly.   
She tapped on the door again and Mark jumped away from it, still in the process of pulling down his shirt.   
She had seen him, seen his body and everything that he was ashamed of.   
He couldn't face her again.  
He had lied to her and she had seen him for the ugly thing that he was.  
How could he ever look at her again?  
"Mark, open the door, please?"  
He sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at the door.  
"Mark, please?"  
He brought his fingers up to his mouth and started to bite down on his fingernails.  
"Mark?"  
After a few minutes, he heard her sniffle. The light underneath the door shifted, grew darker, and he saw a very thin sliver of her jeans through the opening.  
"Mark, I'm sorry."  
His eyes started to burn with tears and he bit down until his jaw began to hurt again.  
"I'm sorry if I... I don't know. I'm sorry, Mark." she said through the door. "Don't feel bad about... I just wanted to help you. You're hurt and... Mark, please come out."  
Mark walked to the door and sat down beside it.  
"Mark, aren't you hungry? I made breakfast. At least take a bite of some toast. You can take a painkiller afterwards."  
He leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes.  
Her voice grew soft and sad.  
"Mark, please don't shut me out now. Especially now."  
"I don't want you to see me, April." he said.  
"Why not?"  
"Because..." he trailed off.  
Silence.   
And then...  
"I know you and Roger are bestfriends. You guys have a history together that I'll probably never really understand, even if you told me everything. But... I think of you as my bestfriend too, Mark. Does that sound stupid? We've only known each other for less than a year, right?"  
She coughed but Mark could hear the tears that hid behind it.  
"Yeah, it's stupid. Less than a year. But it's just... I feel like... you've been with me throughout this whole thing with Roger. I've never seen anyone so devoted to another person. Most people I know would have left a long time ago, left Roger and just let him...."  
She sniffled.  
"Just let him die, I mean. And you've taken care of the both of us. Of me. You don't even know how many times you've saved me by just being there. Everytime I wanted to give up, you'd be there. Trying to make me drink tea or something even though you knew how much I hated the stuff."  
Mark opened his eyes.  
"I miss my family so much, Mark. It just... makes me feel sick sometimes. But when you're around, it doesn't hurt so much. You feel like... like home, I guess, as corny as that sounds. You always make things better. You know how to fix things that are broken and make them right. Like Roger... like me. You've seen us both at our worst and you never left. You were always there. For once, Mark, let me take care of you. That's all I'm asking. Let me try to take care of you like you've taken care of us."  
Tears sprung into his eyes and Mark shook his head.  
"Mark?"  
He didn't answer.  
He heard her shuffling outside and then looked down at the small space underneath the door. Three of her fingers wiggled up at him in a small wave. He smiled, despite the tears.  
"Hi, Mark. Still there?"  
He nodded in response though he knew she couldn't see, and touched her fingers with his own.   
They curled around his index finger.   
"I love you, Mark."  
He pulled back his fingers and watched as her fingers slid back underneath the door.   
He reached up and unlocked the door, pushing himself backwards on the floor with his legs.   
April peered in cautiously and looked relieved when she saw him looking back at her. She looked as if she had wilted a little, the tired shadows around her eyes had begun to creep back. She smiled at him and sat down on the floor next to him.  
For a moment, they looked at each other in silence. The small, simple smile never left her lips.   
April held out her hand to him and Mark stared at it for a moment before placing his hand, shaking slightly, over it.  
  
  
When Collins got home, Mark and April were still sitting at the kitchen table.  
"Hello! Anyone home?" Collins' deep voice boomed out into the apartment and April looked at Mark with wide eyes.  
She giggled in mid-chew and covered her mouth before any crumbs could spill out.  
"We're in here!" Mark called out and he smiled weakly at April.  
She seemed almost manic in her happiness and it worried Mark. Her eyes were perhaps a little too bright and her smile was a little too wide. She seemed to have regained all the lost energy of the past nine months in one morning and Mark knew it wasn't possible for her to keep it up.   
Collins walked into the kitchen with a smile on his face. He was carrying two large grocery bags and April jumped up from her chair to help him.  
"I bought some breakfast..." Collins said, and then he saw the small mess on the table. "But I guess the both of you have beat me to the punch."  
April took one of the bags from him and set them down on the kitchen counter. She danced around Collins and hugged him from behind.   
"I made enough for an army, Collins!" she said, winking at Mark. "Have a seat! Eat, drink and be merry, right?"  
April moved to get him a plate from one the cabinets and Mark could see Collins' smile faltering on his lips. He looked at April and then at Mark.  
His eyes spoke to Mark across the table as he sat down.  
What happened?  
Why is she acting like that?  
Mark shook his head and made a gesture with his hand.  
Later.   
Just play along.  
Collins nodded just as April turned around. She set down a plate and a fork in front of him and sat down next to Mark.   
"Thank you." Collins said, smiling warmly at her.   
He glanced around the table.   
"My God, everything looks so good!" Collns exclaimed sincerely. His eyes took in the omelets and pancakes and hashed browns on the table and his stomach growled loudly.   
Mark knew the feeling.  
When April had led him out of the bedroom, Mark didn't think he could eat a bite, much less an entire meal.   
He was proven wrong.  
Mark had eaten so much that his stomach hurt pleasantly but April had only taken a few bites of her toast and eggs.   
Collins laughed and shook his head at April.   
"I don't even know where to begin. Thank you."  
"No prob." she said, blushing. She waved her hand in the air as if she were waving away his compliment. "I like to cook. It's probably the only thing I'm really good at. My brother was a football player in high school and he ate like a horse! He'd eat like four or five big meals a day. After school, Adam and I would...."  
A shade of sadness crept into her eyes as she spoke about her brother and the rest of her family. Mark's observant eyes took her in as she talked. Her smile was hanging on bravely by a thread and her eyes were growing glassy and even more distant.  
She's remembering, Mark thought.  
She's remembering that she had a life before this one.   
Mark's eyes traveled from April's face to Collins's eyes. Collins was staring at April, studying her with that look- that curious, thoughtful look and Mark knew that Collins was thinking the same thing.   
"....and then she grabbed the canister and all this flour came down over her! Me and Adam started laughing... until we realized that our parents were pulling up to the driveway."   
April stopped and smiled wistfully. She hugged herself and leaned back. Mark got the feeling that she was pulling back in her mind, away from Collins and Mark, away from Collins' kitchen and New York.   
"I think... I think I'm going to take a shower now." she said, looking at Mark. "Um, you and Collins can catch up."  
The smile returned to her lips in full force as she stood up.  
"And you can tell him the good news."  
"What good news?" Collins asked, chewing. He looked at Mark and Mark felt a tidalwave of nausea in his stomach.  
"Mark found Roger last night." she said happily.   
"He got Roger to go to rehab." 


	11. Ch. 11- Good Intentions

A/N: Okay, I'm going against what I've usually been doing in this story and jump out of Mark's pov for a scene. Trash me, hate me, flame me, whatever. I just got dumped so nothing can really inflict any more pain in me. Bitter, much? Yes, I am. Indeed.  
  
Warning: This is a monster of a chapter.  
  
  
Chapter 11- Good Intentions  
  
  
Mark leaned against the couch and stared into space.   
He was beyond tired, beyond weary. His body felt heavy and weighed down and he could barely keep his head up.   
He had told Collins everything.   
Every last detail of the events the night before. He talked until his mouth was dry, until he felt as if the stitches in his mouth were going to snap open.   
Collins had winced when Mark had lifted up his shirt and shown him his wounds.  
The only time Mark stopped talking was when April walked out of the bathroom.   
She had flashed them both an embarrassed grin as she hurried to the bedroom, clad only in a towel, her long hair still dripping wet.  
Mark had stared after her and then continued on in a softer voice.  
Finally, he was done and now both men sat in silence.  
If lying weighs you down, Mark thought, I must weigh a ton.  
He laughed out loud at the idea.  
Collins frowned.   
He sat on the other chair in the livingroom and he glanced up when he heard Mark's humorless laugh.  
"Mark, are you okay?" he asked.   
Mark's head lolled to the side and he looked at Collins.  
"No, I am not okay." he said quietly. "After today, I will never be okay."  
"That's not true."  
"It's not?" Mark asked bitterly. He lifted his head with some effort and sat up.   
"I lied to her, Collins." he hissed in a whisper. He glanced at the bedroom door warily before speaking again. "She thinks I saved Roger. I haven't done shit. I let him go. I didn't even run after him. I just watched him go."  
"You were hurt. You were in no condition to run after him."  
"So what?" Mark muttered. His shoulders drooped and he looked down at the floor. "I let her down. I let both of them down."  
"Mark, you have to tell her the truth..."  
Mark's head jerked up and his eyes widened at the thought.  
"She'll hate me!"   
"She won't." Collins said smoothly.  
"She will!" Mark cried out. He instantly covered his mouth and glanced back at the door.   
When he was sure April wasn't going to walk out he turned back to Collins.  
"She loves him." he said miserably. "All she wants is Roger. When all is said and done, I don't matter as much to her as he does. Look how happy she is now, Collins. She thinks I fixed everything. I've only made things worse. If she finds out I lied to her... she'll hate me. And then she'll go out and find Roger herself. And she'll find him or die trying."  
Collins said nothing and Mark took it to mean that he agreed. He took off his glasses and covered his face with his hands.   
"You have to tell her, Mark." Collins said kindly. "Don't you think she deserves the truth?"   
Mark looked up and stared at Collins.   
"I think she deserves to be happy." Mark replied.   
"It's not right, Mark. For her to be happy like this, in this way. It isn't right. What do you think is going to happen when she finds out that Roger isn't in rehab? How do you think she's going to feel when she's walking down the street one day and runs into Roger, all strung out? You can't keep her in here forever."  
Mark lowered his eyes again.  
"She won't have to find out." he muttered. "Not if I find him first. All I have to do is find him, Collins...."  
"Be realistic here. Have you looked in a mirror lately? You look like you're about to collapse at any moment, Mark. And I know you're not all here mentally. How long has it been since you've gotten a good night's sleep? And aside from breakfast, when was the last time you sat down and ate a real meal? One that didn't have the word 'instant' printed on it's container?"  
Mark shrugged and said nothing.   
He knew Collins was right.   
If he went out again, he would drop like a lead balloon on the street.   
And Mark didn't want to go outside.   
He didn't want to be out in the cold again, searching for someone who didn't want to be found. He didn't want to get hurt again and his skin seemed to physically recoil at the mere idea of walking around the city once again.  
Most of all, he didn't want to leave April.  
He thought about her warm, comforting arms around him. The feel of her soft skin beneath his lips. He looked down at his hands and remembered the way her hair had felt between his fingers and on his face.   
How could he leave again knowing she was here?  
How could I lie to her? Mark thought and his hands curled up into fists.   
But how I could not?  
How could I think about her like this?  
Roger.  
Roger.  
She was Roger's.  
( "Tell her anything, any excuse. But tell her I love her...." )  
His thoughts whirled around and grew to a hysterical pitch in his mind.  
Mark felt the contents of his stomach rise up in revolt and he jumped to his feet and ran towards the bathroom, ignoring Collins' cries of surprise.   
He barely made it.  
Mark shoved the toilet seat cover up and aimed down. The breakfast he had consumed flew out of his mouth and Mark closed his eyes as he brought up everything he had eaten. He gripped the sides of the toilet to keep from falling down and he vaguely heard Collins and April rushing to the bathroom.   
"What happened?!"  
"I don't know. He just got up and...."  
"Should we call the....."  
"I think we should...."  
"Maybe...."  
"But......"  
"I'll...."  
Mark's stomach was finally empty but that didn't stop his body from gagging. His throat burned and his eyes stung with tears. He felt himself falling back and realized that someone was pulling him backwards. He was being held tightly, being kept in a sitting position and he slumped against the body next to him weakly.  
He heard the toilet flush.  
Someone wiped his face with a warm, wet towel and then he felt something cold being pressed to his mouth.  
"It's water, Mark. Drink it. It's just water."  
He parted his lips and felt the cool, tasteless liquid clear a path down his throat. He drank thirstily until the cup was pulled away.  
He opened his eyes.  
April looked down at him, her face pinched with worry. When she saw that he was blinking up at her, she smiled with relief and looked behind her.   
"I think he'll be okay." April said. Collins' face loomed above them and Mark struggled to sit up on his own.   
April's arm fell down to her side and Mark realized that she was the one who had pulled him back. She had been holding him upright the whole time.  
Mark pulled himself away from her and leaned against the wall. He looked up at Collins.  
"Mark, are you...?" Collins said, not having to finish his question.   
Mark nodded quickly and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.  
"I just... I-I think I j-just ate too much. T-Too fast." he stammered.   
Mark glanced up at Collins again and looked at him meaningfully.  
Collins shook his head sadly.   
"I guess you're alright here." Collins said, putting a hand on April's shoulder. She looked up at him and smiled, nodding.   
Collins walked out of the bathroom and April lowered her head and looked at Mark.  
"Are you really okay?" she asked quietly.   
The almost hysteric happiness was gone and it left her pale and watchful. Her brown eyes were perfectly round and they looked at Mark with a trace of fear.  
He realized that she was still worried he was sick and he sat up, trying to make himself look better.   
"Yeah. I just ate too much." he said. "I haven't eaten in so long... I guess I just... ate too much."  
She smiled slightly.  
"Thanks, Mark." she said. "That really says a lot about my cooking."  
Mark felt too tired to smile. His mouth felt sour and his head felt light. He struggled to stand up and April had to help him get to his feet.   
"Hey, careful." she muttered as he slumped against her.   
"I want to... brush my teeth or something." he said, turning his head away. "My mouth feels like shit."  
She nodded and pulled him to the sink. He leaned against it and grabbed his toothbrush and the toothpaste bottle.  
April watched him carefully, frightened.  
"Mark, you really, really scared me." she said quietly.   
Mark looked at her and then stuck his toothbrush in his mouth so that he wouldn't have to respond to her.  
"I mean, shouldn't we all be happy now?" she asked. Her eyes looked at him innocently and a small smile flitted across her lips. "Roger's going to get better and it's all thanks to you. We should be celebrating."  
He avoided her eyes as he spit into the sink.  
"But I know you're tired, Mark." she said softly. "We all are. Especially you. You should get some rest now. Take a nap or something. I'm going to go out for a few hours and..."  
( "How do you think she's going to feel when she's walking down the street one day and runs into Roger, all strung out?" )  
He rinsed his mouth quickly and shook his head.  
"No, you can't go out."  
April stared at him.  
"Uh.. why not, Mark?"  
"Because..." He realized that he had no reason to give her. "Because you... you need to rest, too. I mean, you're tired too."  
She smiled.   
"I slept last night, silly." she teased. "You barely got any sleep. Besides I need to stop by the loft."  
She pulled at the sweater she wore- another one of Mark's.  
"I want to change, you know. Not that I have anything against wearing your clothes but I think you're about to run out of tops."  
Mark shook his head, not smiling.   
"You can't go." he muttered. "Please, April."  
She frowned.  
"Why not?"  
Mark's shoulders drooped. He lowered his eyes, afraid to look at her.   
"Because... don't leave me, April. Please." he whispered. "I just.. I don't want to be alone right now."  
And it was the truth. Mark wasn't lying to her- he didn't want to be alone. Or rather, he didn't want to be without her. He felt her hand slip over his hand and he looked up.  
She was gazing at him kindly and Mark caught the flicker of pity in her eyes.  
He hated it instantly; hated the look she was giving him, the way her head tilted to the side as she looked at him.  
But he knew it was the only way she would stay in the apartment.  
God, she feels sorry for me, Mark thought bitterly.   
Poor pathetic little Mark, always alone, always needing someone around.  
Better she feel sorry for me than hate me.  
"Okay, Mark." she said, nodding. "I'll stay home today. But I really need to pick up some stuff from the loft tomorrow."  
He nodded, not really hearing her anymore.  
He was just glad that she wasn't going out.  
  
  
  
April blinked up at the ceiling.  
It had been an hour since Mark went to bed and she had laid there for nearly that long, waiting for his breathing to grow deep. Somehow, his arms had found their way to her and had wrapped themselves around her waist.   
When she was finally sure that Mark was unconscious, she gently lifted Mark's arm off of her and slid out of the bed, moving carefully so that she wouldn't wake him. She glanced down at him briefly, at his pale, drawn face and frowned.  
I'm sorry, she thought sadly.  
You've done so much for me, Mark and I...  
She lowered her head and shivered, turning away from him.  
As quietly as she could, she picked up her bag from the corner of the bedroom and opened the door, closing it behind her.   
She glanced around the livingroom, making sure that Collins wasn't there and then walked to the bathroom.  
She kneeled down on the floor. Her bag clunked heavily to the ground as she set it down and she opened the lid of the toilet, looking down into its deep blue water. She opened her bag and began to pull out small dark orange perscription bottles, one by one, until nearly a dozen of them surrounded her.  
They look like little people around me, she thought.  
Like I'm some kind of giant.  
Fi Fie Fo Fum...  
She almost smiled and then stopped herself  
There was nothing amusing in what she was about to do.  
With shaking hands, she took one and popped off the lid. Little white pills stared up at her blindly and she quickly flicked her wrist, tossing them down the toilet.  
When the bottle was empty, she put it aside and picked up another one.  
Her hands began to shake even harder as she reached forward and flushed the toilet.  
She watched, transfixed, as the white pills made their way around and around the porcelain surface, finally disappearing into the abyss.  
"Two down, eight to go." she muttered.  
"April."  
She gasped loudly and jumped up, slamming her body against the hard, cold surface of the bathroom wall.  
Collins stood at the doorway, his warm dark eyes wide with surprise.  
April winced.  
"Jesus Christ, Collins, you scared me!" she cried out. His eyes moved down to the bottles on the floor and he bent down to grab one.  
"No!"   
April moved as quickly as she could to stop him but he had already taken one and was holding it in his hand.  
She stared at the floor, unable to raise her head.  
"Azidothymidine." he said in a shocked whisper. "AZT."  
April's eyes filled with tears and she closed them, nodding her head weakly. She sat up and covered her face, not wanting to look into Collins' eyes.   
Collins walked inside the bathroom and closed it behind him.  
She fought back her tears.  
Collins sat down across from her and put his hand on her shoulder.   
"April, look at me. Don't be afraid." he said softly.   
With effort, she forced her body to lower her hands and she looked up at him.  
"Do you have AIDS?" he asked quietly.   
She opened her mouth and then stopped.  
Her heart pounded in her chest and her lungs seemed to constrict, making it hard for her to draw in a deep breath.  
God, I can't lie to him, he knows what it is, she thought.  
Oh God, oh God, oh God...  
She shook her head and closed her eyes, trying to stop the wave of pain that had crept around her heart. She felt beyond tired, beyond weak from carrying the secret around for so long. There had been too many ups and downs, too many hopes and dreams that had been shattered for her to carry it alone anymore.   
She wanted to tell him- really, really wanted to tell him the truth but something inside of her wanted to scream out in denial.   
She felt that if she kept to herself, it would go away.  
To hear it out loud, spoken in words would make it real.  
Would make death real.  
"April, do you have AIDS?" Collins asked, a little more strongly.  
"No." she said in a whisper. She opened her eyes and forced herself to look him directly in his eyes.   
"It's not mine. I was just... I..."  
Collins exhaled loudly and slumped against the wall. He stared at the bottle in his hand and slowly shook his head. He suddenly looked years older to April, even older than he already was.   
"You and Mark." he said quietly. "You and Mark have a lot to talk about. I mean that. You both think that lying will make things better. It doesn't. Lying only serves to cover the truth for only a short time and while it does, the pain caused by each lie only gets worse."  
"I'm not lying, Collins. Really." April forced the words out of her mouth and the lie gushed out of her like a river.  
"One of Roger's friends stashed his meds in my bag and I'm just getting rid of them because I don't want to carry them around any more and I know I'll never see his friend again and so..."  
"You really think I'm going to believe that?"  
April winced and then closed her mouth.  
"How long have you known?" he asked.  
The tears she had fought finally slipped out and they fell down her cheeks silently.   
"Since... since December." she said. She uttered a small cry and Collins reached out and pulled her against him. She pressed her face into his shirt and cried. "I-It's been t-two months."  
"You haven't told anyone, have you?" he said softly. "You've been carrying it around all by yourself for two months. That must have been hard."  
She shook her head violently and sobbed. His hand rubbed her back soothingly and she found comfort in the slow rhythm of it.  
"I don't even know how alone you must have felt." he said. "All this time. You should have told someone. Mark."  
"He can't know." she said, alarmed. She pushed herself back and stared at him with wide eyes. "You can't tell him. You can't!"  
"Why not? Collins asked. "There's something about Mark that you should know, April..."  
"Because if he knew, then he'd try to help me too." she said. Her face fell again and she lowered her head, trying to fight the next wave of tears. "And Roger needs all the help Mark can give right now. I can take care of myself. Roger can't. He can't control himself."  
"You got it from Roger."  
She choked back a sob and nodded.   
"Who else would I have gotten it from?" she said, bitterly. She squeezed her eyes shut and pushed the tears back.   
"But it's okay now. I mean, Roger's going to be okay. After he gets through rehab, we can deal with this. He'll get checked and then he'll get help. After...."  
"Roger isn't in rehab, April."  
Her heart lept into her throat and lodged itself there.  
April looked up at him sharply, confused.   
He could have been speaking Japanese to her for all she knew.   
What he was saying made no sense.  
"What?" she asked. She sat up and pushed herself against the wall, as far away from him as she could.   
He looked at her with a mixture of deep sadness and hesitating fear.  
"Mark... " Collins shook his head. "Mark thought it would be best to tell you that Roger was in rehab. He thought that it was the only way to ease your mind and to stop you from going out and looking for him again."  
April stared at him, numb.  
Roger was still out there.  
Not safe.  
Sick.  
Addicted.  
Not safe.  
"He wanted to protect you, April. Not hurt you." Collins said.   
April opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out.   
"April, Mark loves you very much. Very deeply. I don't think you understand how deeply..."  
"He left Roger out there." she said dully. "Roger is still.. he's stll..."  
"April, are you listening to me?" Collins said. He reached for her arm and she jerked away.   
"April, Mark didn't want to hurt you. This whole time has been to keep you from hurting, in fact, all Mark wants is for you to be happy. April, Mark is in...."  
"Oh God, oh God..." April started to shake uncontrollably and she lowered her head into her arms. "Oh God, Roger, Roger!"  
She wept bitterly and each tear burned a trail down her skin like acid.  
"It's not over, it's not over. It will never be over and I'm living a nightmare!" she wailed. "I can't do this anymore! I can't deal with this anymore! I can't live like this anymore! It has to stop...."  
She felt Collins wrap his arms around her and pull her against him again. She felt like a baby in his large arms and he rocked her gently, side to side.  
But she kept crying.  
She was so tired and she kept crying because she didn't think she could stop. She just hurt so badly.   
Mark had lied to her!   
She had trusted in Mark and he had lied to her!  
But she couldn't be mad at him, not really.   
After all, this was her fault, her mess.   
She could have tried harder to make Roger stop, she should have put her foot down the first time instead of letting him continue to self-destruct.   
She should have....  
"No, it's not your fault, April." Collins said.   
He stroked her hair and she realized with a start that she had been speaking her thoughts out loud.  
"How do you know?" she moaned. Her throat was tight and sore and though her eyes were swollen and painful, tears continued to leak out.   
"I just do." he said simply.   
Her chest hitched and he rubbed her back, helping her take a deep breath.   
"What am I going to do?" she asked. She raised her eyes and looked at him. "I have to find him, Collins. I can't just leave him out there. The way he is.. he'll get himself killed."  
"Let me worry about that from now on, April." he said firmly. "You have someone else to deal with now. Mark."  
She looked at him, not saying anything.  
"You have to tell him." Collins said patiently.   
"I can't." she said miserably.  
"Why not?"  
"Because..." She sat up and wiped her face with the back of her hand. Then she covered her eyes with her hand.   
"Because Mark.. he might...he might think I'm dirty or..."  
"April, you know I have AIDS, right?" Collins asked.   
She nodded her head slowly, refusing to look up.  
"Does Mark think any less of me because I do? Have you ever heard him say that I'm dirty because I have AIDS?"   
She shook her head.  
"Does he treat me differently?"  
"No."  
"What makes you think he would think of you any differently if he knew?" Collins asked.   
His large, dark brown hand gently took her hand away from her eyes and then tilted her head up by her chin.   
"April, Mark loves you."   
She sniffed.  
"I love him too."  
Collins smiled at her.  
"No, April. I don't think you're catching my drift at all." he said, not unkindly.   
"Mark is in love with you."  
  
  
  
***A/N: I just read Sandy's newest chapter ( The Sum of Any Outcome ) and oops! I didn't mean to copy your plot. I just read it right now (after typing up this chapter.) Okay, so Collins knows about April in both stories. Sorry! 


	12. Ch. 12- Confessions and Half Truths

A/N: About two more chapters and the epilogue and this story is finished. I know this scene is looooooong but hopefully, all you fine and wonderful readers will agree with me that it needed to be lengthy. And what about Roger, you may ask? Hm... what about him? Hah...  
  
Need I remind anyone that this story does not end happily? =( Despite the sappy cuteness of this chapter.....  
  
  
  
Chapter 12- Confessions and Half Truths   
  
Mark gasped and sat up.  
For a few minutes, he stared at the door across from him, trying to blink away the blurriness of his vision.  
When it didn't clear up, Mark felt the first twinges of panic start to worm its way up his stomach. He took a deep breath and tried to work through the fog in his mind.  
My glasses, I need my glasses, he thought.   
He twisted around on the bed and squinted, looking for his glasses on the bedside table. He reached out for the black blur and slipped on his glasses, sighing with relief when his vision cleared.  
He had been blind in his dream, unable to see what was in front of him.   
Consumed and surrounded by darkness.  
It was terrifying.  
Mark looked down at the empty space next to him and then looked around the room. Seeing that he was alone, he scrambled to his feet and walked quickly to the door, pulling it open.  
"April?!" Mark said, nearly screaming out her name.   
He walked into the livingroom and shuddered with relief.  
She was sitting on the couch, with her legs pulled up to her chest, biting her nails. At the sound of his voice, she looked up and smiled slightly.  
"Hey, you're awake." she said softly.   
Mark walked towards her, shivering. He glanced at the window and frowned.  
The sky outside was a darkening shade of blue.  
"How long was I out?" he asked.   
April gestured for him to sit down across from her and he did.  
"A few hours." she said. "Five. Six. Seven."  
"Jesus." Mark said, surprised.  
"You were tired." April said simply.   
She put her hand down and wrapped her arms around her legs, resting her chin on her knees.   
"I don't think I've ever slept that long during the day." he said, rubbing his eyes underneath his glasses. "Well, maybe in high school. It's been awhile."  
He lowered his hands when she didn't reply and looked at her.   
She was looking at him curiously, as if she were studying his face for an exam. It was intense- the expression on her still face, and it made Mark feel uneasy.  
He cleared his throat and looked down.  
"Um, where's Collins?" he asked. His voice cracked mid-sentence and he winced.   
Her stare was unnerving.  
"He went to the police station." she said quietly.  
"What?" Mark said. His heart began to pound in his chest. "Why would Collins go there?"  
"To file a missing person's report." she said.   
Mark's mouth went dry.  
"W-What?" he stuttered. "F-For who? Why?"  
"Roger."   
April's eyes bore into him like steel picks.   
"He's been missing for two days, Mark. Two days is enough to file a report." she said.   
"I know, Mark. I know he's still out there."  
Mark couldn't speak.   
His heart had stopped and he had no air left to use for words. At that moment, Mark wanted to die. He wanted to crawl into a hole and die. His body went limp and he slumped against the arm of the couch. His eyes began to water and he uttered a strangled cry as he tried to breathe.   
April sat up and released her legs.   
"Mark, it's okay." she said gently.   
But he didn't hear her words.  
Mark forced himself to stand up.   
His body burned with shame and anguish.   
He wanted to run away.   
Wanted to turn around and walk out of the apartment and out of her life for good. He had lied to her and now she knew and he was certain that she would tell him she hated him.  
He wanted to be gone before she could utter the words.  
He took a step forward and suddenly felt April's hand grab his.  
"Mark, don't go." she said.   
Her fingers held his hand tightly and he looked back at her. She stood up and looked him in his eyes.   
"Collins told me... he told me everything." she said. "About Roger and..."  
That was when the screaming in his head began- the winding, neverending, horrific sound of his voice screaming out her name filled his mind and then filled the air around him.  
He fell to his knees before her feet and cried.  
"I'm sorry!" he said, crying uncontrollably. He squeezed his eyes shut. "Oh God, April I'm sorry! Please don't hate me! Don't hate me for what I did! I didn't mean to lie, I swear to God, I didn't mean for this to happen. I was just so tired and his dealer... and it hurt so much... and it was so cold and I was scared that you would be gone... oh God, I'm sorry, April!"  
He grabbed her legs and sobbed.  
"Don't hate me don't hate me don't hate me..." he moaned. "I'll make it better, April, I swear to you, I'll find him myself and you can be together and be happy. I'm sorry, April, please don't hate me..."  
Mark felt her pulling away from him and he shook his head and held on to the material of her pants.  
"No, don't leave me." he said, crying. His sobs grew to a hysterical pitch. "I'm sorry! Don't go!"  
But she moved away and Mark collapsed to the floor, weeping.  
"I know I don't deserve you." he cried. The rough material of the carpet scratched his face. "I don't deserve anything good, I know it. I'm a liar and.. and..."  
Mark felt her arms pull him up and then felt himself being pushed against her in a tight embrace.   
His face found the curve of her neck and he cried against her hair.  
"Mark, shh." she whispered into his ear. "I don't hate you, Mark. How could I hate you?"  
"I-I l-lied." he said.   
"I don't hate you, Mark. I could never, ever hate you."  
Her arms tightened around him and his hands clutched at her sweater.   
She rocked him back and forth, rubbing his back until his sobs had subsided into soft whimpers.  
He opened his eyes and moved his face slightly, letting her soft hair wipe his tears.  
"I'm sorry." he said in a ragged whisper. His chest hitched and his entire body shook. "I'm so sorry."  
She pushed him away only a little but he held onto her tightly.  
"No." he moaned. "Please."  
"I'm not going anywhere, Mark." she said. "I only want to look at you."  
He loosened his grip reluctuntly and lowered his eyes. The world was a wet blur to him and he realized that he had dropped his glasses somewhere on the floor.   
He didn't bother to look for them. He preferred the blurriness, preferred not being able to see her face as she spoke.  
Her fingers were soft and gentle as they wiped his tears away. She brushed his hair away from forehead and he realized that he had been sweating.  
He sat up and he felt cool plastic push against his face.  
"How many times have I helped you put your glasses back on?" she said.  
Mark could hear the smile in her voice.  
He pushed his glasses up his nose with one finger and raised his eyes.  
April smiled at him- a sweet, simple tilt of her mouth really. He searched for a hint of anger in her eyes and found none.  
But.. how could she not hate him?  
He couldn't understand it.   
"Mark, are you okay?" she asked after awhile. "Do you want some water?"   
His throat was dry and painful but he didn't want her to stand up and leave him- even if it was only for a few seconds.   
He shook his head and moved shyly back towards her.  
April opened her arms to him and he crept up against her, laying his damp, hot cheek against her soft, cool one.   
Mark felt safe.  
For the first time in a year, he felt safe.   
April knew he had lied and she didn't push him away. She wasn't angry at him and she didn't leave him and Mark felt safe in her arms.  
"Mark, I, um..." April's voice grew shaky and Mark pulled back slightly, alarmed.  
"What's wrong?" he asked, worried.  
"I have to tell you something." she whispered.   
Her eyes grew shiny and when Mark reached up to touch her face, she shook her head and sniffed.  
"You're not the only one who's been lying." she said in a low voice. "The funny thing is, when I tell you... what I'm about to tell you, you might be the one who'll end up hating me. Or at least, not liking me very much. And if you want to leave, I won't stop you. You're free to go, Mark. I want you to understand that. You owe me nothing and I won't ask you for anything."  
Mark touched her hand cautiously and when she didn't pull it away, he slipped his hand over hers and squeezed it.  
"I don't scare easily." he cracked. "I just cry a lot."  
He smiled and then felt uneasy when she didn't smile back. In fact, her face had become pale and the edges of her features seemed tinged in gray.  
"April, what is it?" he asked. "It can't be as bad as..."  
"Remember when I was sick. Around November? December?" she said, cutting him off.   
"Uh huh." Mark said, staring at her.   
Her face had gone a deathly shade of white.  
"I, um, I went to the clinic and got a blood test to see what was wrong." she said quietly. "Um, it was a specific blood test actually. To see if I had a certain.. a certain thing."  
"What was the blood test for?" Mark asked.   
April covered her eyes with her hand and completely pulled herself away from him.  
He touched her hand and she jerked back violently.  
"No, wait." she said, holding out her other hand. "Just.. just wait, Mark. Give me t-time."  
Her voice was choked up and thick and he was certain she was crying but when she finally lowered her hand, her eyes were only slightly puffy.  
"April?" Mark said gently. "What is it? What was wrong? What..."  
"It was a blood test for AIDS." she said quietly.   
In a flash, Mark remembered the day he had met with Collins at the Life Cafe. He remembered coming home that afternoon. Remembered the way April had stumbled in, lost and confused. Remembered the expression on her face when he had caught her on camera.   
Remembered the small white paper in her bag.  
Pos..  
Positive, Mark thought.   
That was the word, wasn't it?  
Positive.  
Her test had been positive.  
Everything around him seemed to spin at a dizzying speed and the earth beneath him seemed to tremble and shake but only April seemed to stay still.   
She stared at her hands with a sick look on her face as if she expected him to say something cruel.   
Mark saw her with new eyes.  
Here was the girl who had spent the past two months of her life carrying a secret that would have made the strongest man weak.   
Here was the girl who had put everyone else before herself, including the person who had probably given her the disease.  
And more simply, here was the girl he loved more than anything or anyone else.  
She raised her eyes slowly, fearfully and looked at him.  
"So now you know." she said in a voice that was barely above a whisper.  
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Mark asked. "Why didn't you let me help you?"  
"I was scared."  
Mark said nothing. He was well acquainted with fear of all kinds. He understood.  
The fear of not knowing. Of not being accepted.   
Of making life's worst horrors real by the simple act of vocalizing them.   
Of being alone.  
April closed her eyes and a single tear slipped down her cheek.  
"I didn't want to tell you until... until things calmed down." she said. "I wanted to find Roger first. So that he could get tested and helped. I was going to tell you afterwards, Mark. I just... I didn't want to add to the problem."  
Mark moved forward and touched her face with the tips of his fingers. He wiped the tear away and she opened her eyes and blinked at him.  
"It wouldn't have happened that way, April." Mark said. "You should have told me sooner."  
"I know."  
He cupped her cheek with his hand, letting his fingertips stray against her hair.  
"Are you okay?" he asked. "Do you have medication? Which ones are you taking? Do you have enough? Are you sick?"  
She smiled wryly and tilted her head into his hand.   
"I'm set, Mark." she said. "Don't worry about me."   
"I can't help it."  
"I know."  
"April, you have to get a doctor. Like a... a personal physician as soon as possible. You have to stay healthy, you know..."  
"I know."  
"Have you told your parents? Your family? Do they know?"  
She shook her head. "Not yet, Mark."  
"You have to tell them, you have to let them know, April."  
"I know."  
"So what else do you know?" Mark asked, letting a smile creep over his lips. "You seem to be the amazing all-knowing April today."  
April stopped smiling and touched his hand on her face. She kissed his palm and then brought it back down to the floor.  
"That's about it." she muttered, lowering her eyes. "I'm done with confessions for the day."  
Mark hesitated.  
"I'm not." he said, after a short pause. "April, there's something else that you need to know. About me.. and you, I guess."  
She looked up.  
He took a deep breath to steady himself.  
I've never declared my love for anyone before, he thought nervously.  
This is what it is right?   
A declaration.  
An announcement.  
Mark almost smiled.  
I'm making it sound so much more than it really is, he thought.  
Just three little words, really. It's easy to say.  
But what happens if she doesn't love me back?  
What do I say then?  
Mark didn't know but he still had to take that chance.   
"April, I, um.." Mark cleared his throat and forced himself to look into her eyes. "Maybe this isn't the right time to tell you but... I think you should know that, um... Well, I... I always knew you were special, April. You were different from every other..."  
He stopped and blushed.  
"Okay, let me start over." he said. He laughed nervously. "April, I..."   
April's face softened and she put her finger over his lips gently, making him stop and stare at her in wonder.  
"You don't need to say it, Mark." she said. "I already know. Really."  
He reached up and took her hand from his face. He held it tightly in both of his hands and gazed into her eyes.  
Suddenly, he wasn't afraid or nervous anymore.  
"I love you." he said.  
April leaned foward and kissed him.   
  
  
  
  
She crept into the bathroom, looking over her shoulder once before she locked the door behind her.  
Mark was in the kitchen, fixing something to eat for the both of them  
She put her bag on the floor and pushed the toilet seat up.  
She took out the remainder of the pill bottles and without hesitation, poured the contents of each one out into the water.   
She flushed the toilet and put each bottle back into her bag.  
"April?"   
Mark knocked on the door and she looked up, alarmed.  
"Are you okay in there?"  
April put the toilet cover down and picked her up bag. She opened the faucet and let it run.  
"Yeah, Mark, I'm just washing my hands." she said. "I'll be right out."  
"I made some soup and sandwiches. Is that okay?"  
"Yeah, sounds great."  
April stared at the running water and sat down on the toilet seat, shivering.  
"Are you sure you're okay, April?"  
"I'm great, Mark, really. I'll be right out."  
She was only telling half a lie. 


	13. Ch. 13- Calm Before the Storm

A/N: SHE COMES OUT OF COLLINS' BATHROOM ALIVE! Lola cracks me up! I totally didn't see that comment coming ("She better come out of that bathroom alive!") ...   
I didn't write a bathroom death scene. I've had enough bathroom scenes in this story (foreshadowing events? perhaps...) This is a filler chapter... a weird chapter, actually.   
Thanks for all the reviews so far! It's nice to see new names on that list.  
  
Disclaimer: They are soooo not mine. Not even April. =(  
  
  
  
Chapter 13- Calm Before the Storm  
  
  
  
"I used to think that I was going to get married, have kids and be a soccer mom."  
Mark turned his head to look at her and smiled slightly.  
"I can see you as a mom." he said softly.   
April smiled back and leaned her head against his shoulder, blinking up at him with her soft eyes.  
They were curled up on Collins' couch waiting for him to come home. It was past ten o'clock and they had finished dinner hours ago.  
April's legs were on Mark's lap and his arms were wrapped tightly around her. She leaned half off, half on Mark's chest and he could feel her gentle breath on his neck.  
He had never felt more comfortable and warm.  
"I used to watch the Brady Bunch and all those old shows and I guess it just stuck with me." she said. "I used to want twin boys and a little girl. A little girl with golden hair and blue eyes and..."  
Mark grinned at her and blinked in her face.  
"Blonde hair? Blue eyes? Hello." he teased and her cheeks turned a pale shade of pink. She hit him lightly on his arm and giggled.  
"Shut up, Mark." she muttered.  
He laughed and kissed her forehead lightly.  
"I wanted the simple life." she said after awhile. Her face grew pensive and still. "I still do actually. A simple, quiet, little life. White picket fences and apple trees in the backyard. Babies to chase after. Someone to love, who would love me back. I mean, I know no life is perfect. There's no such thing right? But.. a simple life would have been nice."  
Mark didn't like the way her face had suddenly closed in on itself. Her expression was too thoughtful, too dark and intense. She shifted her eyes slightly and focused in on something in the air that Mark couldn't see.  
"You can still have that, April." Mark said.  
She smiled and it was tinged with bitterness.  
"No." she whispered. "I won't have kids. I can't, Mark. And who would want me... knowing what I have inside of me?"  
"I want you." he said. "I've always wanted you, April. I always will."  
Her eyes turned back to his and she reached up and touched his face.  
Mark realized that his throat was becoming tight and he blinked back the tears that suddenly threatened to spill out behind the surface of his eyes.   
He cleared his thorat.  
"So, um, how old did you think you'd be when you'd have this simple life?" he asked, smiling slightly.  
She smiled back, a real smile and Mark knew that the strange, sad moment had passed.  
"Twenty eight." she said lightly. "I figure that's old..."  
Mark laughed.  
"Twenty eight?" he said. "Are you serious? Isn't that kind of young to have three kids and a husband?"  
April blushed again and she looked sweetly embarrassed.   
"Well, the mothers on the shows always looked so young.." she began and Mark turned his face away so that he could laugh harder.  
"What's so funny!" she demanded, pretending to frown. But the tips of her mouth began to pull up in a smile.  
"Well, they're supposed to look young, April." Mark said, grinning. "I mean, it's T.V. The media is always trying to sell us that 'young is better' and...."  
"Oh gosh, here we go." April said, smiling. She rolled her eyes. "Another spiel about the evils of the media..."  
"Hey, I thought you liked hearing my spiels on the media." Mark said.  
"I do." she said.  
Mark smiled and tilted his head to the side so that his cheek was pressed lightly on her hair. They sat quietly for a moment and Mark played with her fingers, lost in thought. He was amazed at how perfectly they seemed to fit together- like two pieces of a puzzle that had found each other despite the chaos of the puzzle box.   
If I could stay on this couch with April forever I'd happily do so, he thought to himself.  
"So... twenty eight, huh?" he said after awhile. "What do you plan to do before you fulfill your dream of becoming a soccer mom?"  
April's smile faded and Mark suddenly felt as if he had said the wrong thing. She turned her head away and stared out into space again.  
"April?"  
She didn't say anything and continued to stare out into nothing.   
"April, I'm sorry." Mark said, suddenly feeling miserable.   
He had ruined the mood, said something to April that he shouldn't have said and now she was...  
"It's not going to happen, Mark." she said softly. Her eyes were glassy and faraway. ""Not for me, anyway. I'll never have that kind of life..."  
"That's not true." Mark said firmly. He sat up and brushed a few wispy strands of her hair away from her face. He looked into her eyes. "You will have that kind of life, April. I promise it to you. All you need to do is stay healthy and strong and I'll help you with that."  
She stayed silent and Mark went on.  
"April, I've been thinking and.. you need to go home. As soon as you can." he said. "You need to tell your parents and be with your family. None of us here can really give you the things you need, you know. You should be with them."  
"What about you, Mark?" she asked quietly.  
"I'll get a job or something." he said. He lowered his eyes and shrugged. "I'll start saving up for a better place. So that you can come back and have everything you need here. I... I have some money saved up right now. From a long time ago. I never touched it because I was going to use it for an emergency. This counts as one in my mind. I want to use it to buy you a plane ticket home."  
April sat up and stared at him, frowning deeply.  
"Mark, no." she said. "You can't. That's your money and.."  
"I want to." he said. "I have to. I want to make sure you're okay and you won't be okay if you stay here."  
His eyes pleaded with her.  
"Please, let me do this for you. For us." he said.   
She looked at him for a long time and then smiled slightly.  
"Trying to get rid of me already, huh, Cohen?" she said. "It won't be that easy."  
Mark smiled back and shook his head.  
"You know that's not true." he said softly.  
"I know. I'm kidding." she sighed. "What about Roger? I mean, he still.."  
Mark squeezed her hand.  
"Let me and Collins worry about him, April." he said. "You shouldn't have to worry about anything except yourself. The sooner you go home, the sooner you get better help, the sooner we can be together again."   
He blushed and shrugged.  
"And maybe... the sooner you can reach that goal of three kids." he said, smiling. "You know, before twenty eight."  
April laughed softly and he felt her lips against his face. He lowered his head and turned towards her, leaning slightly forward. When their lips met, Mark closed his eyes and let himself slip away in the soft, warmth of her.  
"I see everything worked out for the both of you." an amused sounding Collins said.  
Mark and April pulled apart in surprise and looked up. Collins threw his keys down onto the doorside table and closed the door behind him.  
"Don't let me interrupt!" Collins teased and Mark felt a hot, furious blush rush up to his face.   
Collins winked at him and grinned.  
April swung her legs off of Mark's lap and stood up, brushing her hair behind her ears. Mark noticed that she was blushing too and it made him feel a little better.  
"Collins, we didn't hear you come in." she said, smiling.  
"Well, you were a bit preoccupied." Collins said. "It's okay. I forgive you both. Spreading a little love in this world isn't a bad thing, April."  
"So.. what happened down at the station?" April asked.  
Collins' face grew serious and he sat down on the other chair. April sat down on the livingroom table and glanced at Mark nervously. The air in the room suddenly grew tense and Mark noticed that April had started to chew on her fingers nervously.  
"Some bad news and some good news." Collins said. "Take your pick."  
"Bad news first." April said before Mark could reply. She glanced at him again and Mark slid off the couch and sat down next to her. He rubbed her back soothingly and she looked up at him, grateful.  
"Roger's in jail."  
A small cry escaped from April's lips and Mark stared at Collins, stunned.  
"Oh my God." he muttered.   
He felt April start to tremble underneath his hand and he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer to him.   
He needed to hold her as much as she needed to be held.  
"What happened? Why?" Mark asked.  
"Apparently, Roger was involved in a small altercation outside a bar yesterday night." Collins explained. "He beat up some guy pretty badly. The police arrested him and threw him in a cell."  
"How can we get him out?" April asked. Her voice was weak and shaky and Mark held her tighter. "Is there bail?"  
Collins nodded.  
"That's where the good news comes in." he said. "I called Benny while I was at the station. Explained to him what happened and he's agreed to pay for Roger's bail. Unfortunately he's out of town and he won't make to the city until early tomorrow morning. We'll bail him out tomorrow, April. First thing tomorrow morning. Then after that- it's straight to detox and rehab. One way. He won't get away from us again, I swear that to you. So please, try not to worry anymore."  
"He's right." Mark said. "Roger'll get released tomorrow and he won't be able to go anywhere else after that."  
April stayed quiet for a moment.   
Mark loosened his grip so that he could twist around and look at her face.  
"April? Are you okay?" he asked.   
She looked up at him, dazed.   
"So it's over?" she said. "After Roger gets out... this whole mess is finally... over?"  
"Well, he still has a lot to go through." Collins said. "But I believe the worst is coming to an end. The sooner Roger gets to rehab and gets tested, the better. But now we know where he is. Yes, the worst is over."  
April slumped back against Mark and he felt the air run out of her lungs.  
"It's finally over." she muttered. "You found Roger. So he's going to be okay now? Is he? Does this mean he'll be okay?"  
He kissed the top of her head and squeezed her tightly.  
"Yes."  
  
  
  
  
A few hours later, Mark opened the door to the loft and took a step back when a flood of sickening air swept past him.  
"Oh yuck." April said, making a face. She pressed her face against the back of Mark's sweater to cover her nose.  
"No one's been in here for awhile." Mark said. "I think we should air out the place."  
"Priority one." April muttered, lifting her head.   
Mark took her hand and they both walked inside.   
Mark turned on the lights.  
It was strange, being in the place where they had spent the last year of their lives living in fear and despair. Mark felt a strange whirl of emotion swirl around in the pit of his stomach.   
This is a bad place, he thought suddenly.  
Bad things have happened here.  
Bad things will happen here.  
He shivered as a dark dread passed over his body. Suddenly he was sure that the worst had not yet passed, that one more tragedy was to occur at any moment. He looked over at April to tell her what he was thinking and stopped.  
She was staring at the bathroom with a grim expression on her face. Her normally warm brown eyes were cold and hard and her lips were set in a tight line.   
Mark knew that the worst had not yet passed.   
I'm going to lose her, he thought.  
I'm finally with her and now I'm going to lose her.  
No.  
I've been under a lot of stress lately. Not to mention physical pain.  
I'm just a little on edge, that's all.  
But somehow Mark couldn't convince himself that it was over.  
He squeezed her hand and she looked over at him. The change in her expression was instant and Mark wondered if he had imagined it all- the dread, the cold look in her eyes, the feeling that he and April were together on borrowed time.  
She smiled at him and he drew her close against his chest.  
"You're shivering." she said quietly.  
"It's cold."  
"Well, you should throw on another sweater." she smiled up at him. A trace of worry crept into her eyes as she looked at him. "Mark, really. You look pale. What's wrong?"  
He forced himself to smile back at her and shrugged.   
"Just cold." he said. She hugged him briefly and then pulled away, moving towards Roger's bedroom.  
"I'm going to change." she said. "And clean up the mess in there. The last time I saw it, it looked like a hurricane passed through it.."  
Mark watched her as she opened the door and disappeared into the darkness of the room. He walked to his own room and flicked on the lights.   
It looked exactly as it did the night he had come back to look for Roger.  
Mark rushed to his closet and flung it open. He got down on his hands and knees and shuffled through the old clothing and blankets there and grabbed the shoe box he had put his camera in.  
He pulled it towards him and threw off the box top, groaning with relief at the sight of his most prized possesion.  
Mark grinned and picked it up, touching it gently with his fingers to make sure every piece was where it should be. He pulled his sleeve over his wrist and rubbed the lens with the fabric, humming as he did. He didn't know what he was humming, only that he was happy enough to sing a little. He flicked it on and the camera whirred to life, the red light flashing up at him like an eye.   
"How long has it been since I've held you?" Mark said to the impassive lens. "It's weird. I haven't filmed in almost three days and so much more has happened in those three days than in the past three months."  
He cleared his throat and steadied his camera, glancing at his bedside table watch.  
"February fourth, eleven p.m. Standard Eastern Time." he said loudly. "This is the first time that April and I have been inside the loft for nearly three days. April and I. Me and April. I don't know if... if we're even a 'we' yet. Actually, I don't even know if she's in love with me too. I mean, I told her how I felt but.. I don't think she's said it back. And I know I would remember something like that. I mean, it's April."  
He looked down and coughed. After a few minutes, he raised his eyes once more to the lens.  
"But we kissed. And the only thing I know is that when we're together, I'm happy. And she seems to be happy too. Sometimes though, she gets this faraway look in her eyes, like she's somewhere in her mind where I can't reach her. I wonder if she's still in love with Roger. How could she not be? After all she's done for him this whole time. How could I automatically assume that she would feel the same way..."  
Mark lowered his head again but kept his camera steady.  
"Jesus Christ, she probably just feels sorry for me. The way I've been acting around her- like a sniveling little kid following her around. How could I not have thought about this sooner? She's still in love with Roger..."  
"I'm not, Mark."  
Mark turned around, startled.   
He turned his camera off and set it down.  
April stood at the doorway, looking at him with solemn eyes. She had changed into another shirt and she held his sweater in her hands.  
"April, I didn't mean.."  
"I know, Mark. It's okay." she said quietly. She walked inside his room and closed the door behind her.   
"I didn't mean that I don't trust you." Mark said. April sat down next to him on the floor and smiled, nodding.  
"I know." she said. "But I'm telling you now that I'm not in love with him. I love Roger. I care for him so much that I... I... but I'm not in love him."  
"You didn't have to say that."  
"Yes, I did." she said. "You have to know that. The last few months have been so... dark. I wasn't sure of myself or what I felt for anyone. Things were just too complicated and I was so lost. But I think that... deep down inside, I always... I always knew."  
Mark lowered his eyes and touched her hand.  
"Deep down inside, it's always been you." she whispered.  
Mark smiled.   
"Really?" he said, shyly. April lifted up his head so that he could look into her eyes.  
"Really." she said. "And Mark, we are a 'we'- it's okay to say we."  
Mark blushed and laughed. "Exactly how long were you standing at the door listening to me?"  
April smiled back.  
"Long enough." she said.   
Her face grew serious.   
"I love you, Mark. I should have said it before."  
"It's okay." Mark said, trying to keep his voice steady. He shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. "At least you said it now, right?"  
But his heart felt as if it were soaring high above him in the sky. 


	14. Ch. 14- Going Home

A/N: Angsty... very, very angsty- although it's all sticky sweet in the beginning. I actually had another ending (why do I always write two endings? :: plugs my old Rentfic :: ) written and it's still on my disk so if anyone wants to check it out... yah.  
  
Chapter 14- Going Home  
  
  
She touched his face gently and smiled.  
For a moment, she looked exactly like the girl Mark had met that first night.   
Exactly like the old April, forever young and healthy and beautiful.  
He studied her face and forced himself to etch her features into his memory, grinding each line of her face on the surface of his mind.  
He touched her fingers and she squeezed his hand.  
"So.. what do you want to do now, April?" he asked.  
"I want you to make love to me."  
Mark's breath caught in his throat and she misread his shock for fear.  
She shook her head.  
"No, not have sex, Mark." she said. Tears misted her eyes and she shook her head again. "I would never... I would never do that to you, knowing what I have. I would never put you in danger like that."  
"No, I know, April..." he began but she put her finger on his lips.  
"I want you to hold me and make love to me tonight. Just... love me." she said.   
Her voice choked up and she lowered her head, as if she were afraid he would say no.   
He reached out and brushed her hair away from her face.  
"Yes." he whispered.   
Without looking up at him, she took his hand and pulled him up to his feet, leading him to his bed. They both sat down on it.  
She raised her head and the look in her eyes....  
Mark fought back his tears.   
He fought back the overwhelmingly terrible pain in his chest as he leaned forward to kiss her.  
Their lips met and her tongue passed over his mouth.   
He parted his lips and they kissed deeply and for a long time.  
He took off his glasses and put them down on the bed next to him.  
Mark was aware of her hands as they slid underneath his sweater. He shivered as her fingers crept along his bare skin, hesitant but loving. He leaned back a little and she pushed his sweater up, over his chest.  
He moved back more and she pulled the sweater completely off, throwing it aside.  
When his torso was exposed she stared at him and he lowered his eyes in shame.  
"I know I'm not much to look at." he said, staring at the sheets between them. "I mean, my bruises haven't healed yet and..."  
He forced himself to chuckle but stopped when her hands touched his face again.   
He raised his head and saw that tears were falling down her face.  
She smiled at him.  
"You're beautiful, Mark." she said.   
This time it was April who leaned forward to kiss him. Her hands traveled down his chest to the top of his pants and she undid the button there. With one hand on his back, she pushed him gently forward and she pulled down his pants and boxers as he moved on top of her.   
Mark kissed her urgently and the pounding of his heart seemed to echo in his head.  
Her hands passed over his body, carressing his skin and he moaned softly.  
Then she broke their kiss.  
April took one of his hands and guided it to her own shirt, all the while staring up at Mark with her large brown eyes. Mark never broke her gaze as he unbuttoned her shirt and when her smooth body was exposed, he sighed.   
Mark pressed his lips against her neck as he worked to unbutton her pants. She helped him, finally kicking them off of her legs playfully. Mark rolled off of her and lay on his side. She moved closer to him and they wrapped their arms around each other.  
For awhile they lay there, gazing quietly into each other's eyes. Mark passed his fingertips over her face, trying to memorize each gentle slope of her cheeks, the curves of her lips and the smooth texture of her skin.  
"For a long time, I thought I had found my prince charming." she said quietly. The tears slid down her face and Mark wiped them away with his fingers. "I thought Roger... I love him so much but..."  
"I know." Mark said softly.   
She smiled.  
"So you're my knight in shining armor, huh?" she said teasingly. Her hands moved down the curves of his body as she spoke. "Funny, I can't picture you on a horse."  
Mark smiled back.  
"Well, I had a pet hamster once..." he said and she giggled. She kissed the side of his neck and lingered there, breathing softly on his skin.  
"Is this wrong, April?" Mark asked suddenly. "I-I mean... us? You don't feel..."  
She leaned back and looked up at him.  
"Does it feel wrong? Us, I mean."  
"No." Mark said honestly.   
In fact, it was the most "right" he had felt in a long time.  
"After all the things we've been through, there is no right or wrong." April said softly. "The way I see it anyway. No right. No wrong. There's only.. there's only us. Tonight."  
Mark nodded, understanding only a little of what she meant. Her eyes looked so grave and dark that it filled him with a strange sort of grief.  
He lowered his head a little and kissed her lips briefly.  
"Only us." he repeated.  
She smiled finally and nodded.  
  
  
They spent the rest of the night touching each other, learning each other, discovering each other.  
At times Mark felt as if he would explode, wanting to feel himself inside of her but not being able to. April would slowly bring him back down, calming his senses until he was rocked to a peaceful lull.   
Sometimes their kisses were hard and urgent, passionate and intense but mostly, they were sweet and almost playful.   
They studied each other with their hands and lips.   
Mark tickled her neck with his nose.   
At one point, he clutched her tightly- as if his survival depended on not letting her go.   
He sobbed into her hair, not really knowing why he felt so sad and she had stroked his back until the sadness had passed.  
They talked and touched and he had made love to her, had given every part of himself to her, just as she had asked him to.   
They didn't need to have sex.  
They had love.  
It was the most beautiful night of Mark's life.  
When he finally felt the pull of unconsciousness tug at his eyes, he laid his head against her chest, over where her heart was beating. He felt her hand in his hair, pulling and stroking and he smiled, closing his eyes.  
He didn't see the tears that slipped out of her eyes as she watched him drift off.  
He didn't hear her whisper "goodbye" in his ear as he lay in her arms sleeping.  
He didn't know that it was the last truly happy moment he would ever have in his life.  
  
  
  
Mark woke up, feeling his world shaking slightly.  
"Mark, wake up."  
He opened his eyes, blinking up, confused.  
Then he smiled.  
April's blurry face loomed over his. He felt her place his glasses in his hand and he slipped them on quickly.  
"Morning." he said. She smiled back at him and Mark noticed the tinge of sadness in her face.  
"Mark, Collins called a few minutes ago." she said quietly. "They're going to go get Roger now. Benny brought the money. He's at Collins' apartment."  
He sat up and and blinked.   
April was already dressed and she sat on the bed in front of him. Her face was serious and pale and drawn, as if she were nervous but trying hard to hide it.  
"April, what's wrong?" he asked. A dark thought entered his mind. "Are you sick? Do you want me to get medicine for you?"  
She shook his head and her face softened.   
She reached out and stroked his cheek gently. Her fingers were soft and cool.  
"No, I'm fine."  
"What's wrong." he asked again. His voice grew small. "You're scaring me a little."  
She smiled at him again and shook her head.  
"I'm sorry." she said. "You should get dressed now. They're expecting you at Collins' place soon."  
"Right. Okay" he said but he didn't move.  
He stared at her face.   
"April, something's wrong." he insisted. "You can tell me. Did Collins say something else?"  
"No, Mark." she said. "Really. Everything's fine."  
Mark felt as if she were lying but the look on her face was so earnest.   
Her eyes seemed to be pleading with him to believe her.  
"Okay." he said dully. "Just... just let me get dressed."  
She nodded and he moved forward. He was about to stand up when he remembered that he was naked underneath the blanket.   
"Um, April."  
She looked at him and smiled.  
"Mark, I think we're pretty much past the whole 'oh my God you're naked' part of our relationship." she said kindly.   
Mark blushed but laughed, knowing she was right. She handed him his clothes and for the first time ever, he felt comfortable getting dressed in another person's presence.   
When he was done, he glanced back at April.  
She was staring at her hands with a look of pure misery and Mark sat down on the bed next to her.  
"April?"  
She looked up at him and smiled. He noticed that she had curled her hands up into small, tight fists.  
"Sorry, daydreaming." she muttered. She kissed him on his cheek and he drew his arms around her waist.   
"April, last night was..."   
Mark felt his mouth grow dry and his face grew hot again. He wanted to tell her that the night they spent together was the most important thing that had ever happened to him. He wanted to tell her how much she meant to him, how much his chest hurt with love for her.   
He wanted to tell her everything.  
He looked up into her eyes and realized that somehow, she probably already knew.  
"Last night was... it was..."  
She kissed him again and smiled.  
"I know, Mark." she said quietly. "Me too. Ditto."  
"I love you." he said seriously.   
She lowered her eyes and nodded. She stood up and Mark let her go.  
"Please, Mark." she said. "Please go now. They're waiting for you."  
He nodded, still watching her. He felt as if something was horribly wrong.   
He didn't want to leave but it was obvious she didn't want him to stay.  
And that hurt.  
"Okay." he muttered. He stood and got his jacket from the chair.   
April followed him as he walked out of the bedroom and towards the front door. He put his hand on the doorknob and paused.  
He turned around.  
"April, I just feel like..." he said. She looked at him solemnly, waiting. "I feel like I shouldn't leave. I mean... like, there's something you're not telling me. Collins and Benny can do this by themselves. I can help you clean the place up and..."  
She sighed and placed her hands on his chest, looking up into his eyes.  
"Mark, I'm just... I just want this all to be over with." she said. "I'm fine, really. I'll just clean up a little while you're gone. You know... I'm just tired. That's all it is."  
"Okay."  
She touched his face.  
"When I leave... for home, I mean, I want you to take care of Roger." she said softly.   
Her eyes filled with tears and Mark felt confused.   
Why was she crying?  
"When I'm gone. You have to watch over him. He'll need you. More than you can ever imagine."  
Mark nodded.   
"Of course." he said. "I mean, can't we talk about this la..."  
She shook her head vigorously.   
"No, I want to talk about this now." she said firmly. Tears slid down her cheeks and Mark wiped them away with the tips of his fingers.  
"Okay, April."  
"Take him to the hospital, Mark." she said. "Make him take his AZT because I know he won't want to. Make him... make him eat and drink and keep him healthy."  
"I know, April, I will."  
"Promise me, Mark. Swear it on your heart and soul."  
"I promise."  
She looked into his eyes for a long time and finally she seemed satisfied.   
She smiled up at him though she was crying openly now.  
"You're a good person, Mark. You have a good heart." she said. "You deserve all the happy endings that life can give. Remember that. You deserve so much more than... this. You deserve happily ever after."  
Mark smiled and kissed the tip of her nose.  
"Hey, April, I'm just going to be away for a few hours." he said lightly, trying to ignore his churning stomach. Something about this was so... wrong. "You act like you're saying good bye already. We're not at the airport or anything. I'm going to come back within a few hours. I promise."  
She laughed but Mark thought it sounded forced.  
April wiped her face and sniffled, taking a step back from him.   
"You're right, Mark." she muttered, wiping her hands on her jeans. "I'm such a dork. Emotional and all, you know. I make everything into a production."  
"Yeah, an emotional dork." he said softly, smiling.   
He reached for her and she fell against his chest, hugging him back.  
For a long time they stood there, holding each other. Mark held her so tightly that he imagined he could feel her heartbeat.  
He wanted to fuse their souls together, somehow, just for one moment.  
When she finally pushed him away, he let her go reluctantly and reached for the door again.   
"I'll be right back." he said and she nodded. He opened the door and was about to walk out when she grabbed his hand.  
He looked back.  
April was smiling again and this time, it was a real smile; magical and happy and real. It seemed out of place with the tears in her eyes.  
"I love you, Mark." she said. "Remember that. I love you."  
He smiled back.  
"Only us." he said.  
She nodded and let go of his hand.  
"I'll see you later." he said. "Everything is going to change now. It's going to get better, April. Happily ever after. You'll see."  
He turned around and ran down the stairs, pausing once to look up at her as she waved good bye.  
It was the last time he saw her alive.  
  
  
  
  
  
Mark held the note she had left him tightly in his palm.  
He stared mindlessly outside the window.  
Downstairs, on the street, the parademics were finally driving away.  
The sirens were off.  
There was no need to rush.  
Outside of his room, past the open door, down the street, he heard Roger still screaming.   
He was screaming so loudly that Collins' voice could not be heard.  
Mark felt nothing.  
Nothing at all.  
He felt strangely detatched from everyone and everything around him.  
The tears he had wept were already drying on his pale cheeks.  
He clenched his fist tightly and crumpled April's note even more.  
He didn't care.   
He didn't need to read it again anyway.  
The hastily scrawled words had been branded on his mind.  
On his heart.  
On his soul.  
When Mark had arrived at Collins' apartment, Benny and Collins had already left him behind. He had taken a cab to the police station and found that he had just missed them there too.   
Finally, not really knowing where else to go and with no more money left in his pocket, Mark began to walk home.  
It had taken him hours to finally reach his block.  
The ambulance was already there when he turned the corner.   
For a moment, Mark thought that Roger had done something horrible. He thought that Roger had hurt himself or worse, someone else.  
And then he saw the small figure, wrapped in white on the stretcher that they carried out and something in Mark's mind broke loose.  
Something in him snapped.  
April, it's April oh God it's April it's her it's her...  
His thoughts circled around in his mind as he ran to her. His feet, already numb and painful from his long walk, pounded the pavement as he rushed to the small figure on the stretcher.   
He didn't think about why the ambulance sirens were not wailing.  
He didn't think about why the paramedics weren't in a rush to leave.  
He didn't question why the sheet was over her face.  
All he knew was that it was April on the stretcher and that something was horribly, horrifically wrong.  
Mark didn't feel their hands on him as he lunged towards her body. No force on earth could have pulled him away from her.   
He threw off the sheet and....  
The scream that he had emitted was primal in its intensity.   
Grief. Pain. Horror. Loss.   
All of them flowed out of his mouth and eyes and skin.  
Then.... nothing.  
He couldn't remember when Collins had come and pulled him away.  
Couldn't remember being dragged up the stairs, up to the loft, away from the street.   
Couldn't remember when Benny had pressed the note in his palm and whispered words of comfort to him.  
Couldn't remember throwing himself at Roger, screaming that it was his fault she had killed herself.  
The only thing he knew now was that April was dead.   
Gone.  
Dead.  
Forever.  
If only I had come home earlier, if only I didn't leave her alone, if only...  
Mark's thoughts repeated themselves as he stared outside.   
The ambulance was far, far away now and now the streets were filled with the red flashing lights of the police cruiser outside. He heard thick boots coming up the stairs and Benny was telling him that the cops wanted to ask him a few questions.  
But Mark didn't move from his position at the window.  
His nails dug into his palm as he tightened his grip even more.  
If only.  
If only.  
If.  
Only.  
  
  
( To Mark-  
  
It's better this way. It really is.  
Who knows how long I would have had. A few months maybe? A year?  
I couldn't live like that- waiting for my body to shut down on me.  
I hope you understand why I did what I did. I wanted every single moment that we spent together to be  
perfect. I wanted to leave you with the best memories of me and you. Of "we." I hope it was enough, Mark.  
I hope you can forgive me.   
Tell my family I love them. Please ask them to forgive me for everything I've done.  
  
Everything I told you was the truth- I never lied to you about my feelings.   
I love you, Mark. I'm so happy that we had a chance to be together.   
You will never know how much our night meant to me.  
Take care of Roger.  
Remember me.  
  
-April )  
  
  
  
  
  
Outside, Roger screamed.  
Inside, Mark died.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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a/n: epilogue will follow shortly. 


	15. Epilogue: Happy Birthday, April

A/N: Well, I hope you guys had as much fun reading this as I had writing it. Thanks for all the reviews! =) Reviews make me smile.   
I left the end of this as it is so that the reader can decide how it really ends. Enjoy!   
  
  
  
Epilogue: Happy Birthday, April  
  
Roger watched as Mark walked away.   
When his small, thin body finally disappeared from his sight, Roger turned around and looked at April's gravestone.  
He had known how Mark felt about April.  
About how he still felt for her.  
Before Collins had died, he had whispered the secret into Roger's ear, telling him to watch over Mark, to make sure that he didn't follow in her footsteps because he.....  
Nine years, five therapists.  
Three suicide attempts.  
Countless nights of waking up to the sound of Mark replaying his films of her, over and over again.  
Roger shook his head.  
"My fault." he whispered. "April, it was my fault and he blames himself. He loves you so much... he just can't let you go. It's not right."  
He imagined her nodding her head in agreement, looking up at him with her round, solemn eyes.  
Roger stared hard at the dates on her gravestone.  
1974 - 1995.  
Nineteen years old forever.  
Collins had told him that at her funeral, April's mother had slapped Mark hard across his face, mistaking him for Roger who was at rehab.   
Mark had turned around and walked away, even when Collins had explained to her family that he wasn't Roger, that Mark had loved her, had tried to save her.   
Instead of leaving, he had stayed far, far away from them at the cemetary, recording everything with his camera.  
He had filmed her coffin being lowered into the ground at a distance, ignoring Collins' assurances that he could go closer, that her mother had apologized and that her family had said it was okay for him say goodbye to her.  
But Mark had remained where he stood, silent and pale and tearless.   
He had even stayed to watch as the gravediggers spat soil down onto her grave with their shovels.   
"You know the sickest part, April?" Roger asked softly. "He forgave me for... for being the cause of everything. He forgave you for leaving him. But he can't forgive himself for not being there to stop you that day."  
He lowered his head.  
"I know you watch over him. I know it was you who helped me find him, each time he tried to take his life. It was you who made sure that I came home in time. It was always you. That's why I'm begging you now, help him. He has to let you go. It's been nine years. Help him let you go."  
A bird chirped happily in the distance and Roger looked up, amused.  
It was almost like a reply.   
"You.. you would have been great together." Roger said suddenly. "You and Mark. You don't know how many times I wanted to tell him that. After you, there was no one else for him. It's like he followed you half way, you know? Half way between here and there. Heaven, I mean. He has one foot here and one foot.. but I guess you already knew that."  
He sighed heavily.  
"You were never mine." Roger whispered. "You were always meant to be with Mark. I ruined that. Ruined what should have been. Collins said that Mark was scared I'd be angry at him for loving you. But how could I be angry when you were never really mine to begin with."  
He stared at her name, etched in stone.  
"I know I ask this every year but I hope you forgive me."  
The bird chirped again and Roger's lips tilted up in a smile, feeling his heart lighten.  
He was about to walk away when something caught his eye.   
A gleam in the bright sunlight, almost completely hidden behind her gravestone.  
He frowned.  
He walked towards it and saw April's old book. The leather was worn and faded but the gold edges were still bright. Mark never took it out of his room and Roger had often found him sleeping in his bed, clutching it to his chest in a death-like grip.   
Roger frowned, feeling his heart sink.  
He bent down and picked it up and as he did, a small white piece of paper fluttered down to the grass.   
Roger picked it up.  
It was addressed to April.  
There were only a few words written on it but they made Roger's heart stop in his chest.  
"Fucking shit." he muttered, looking up with panicked eyes. "Mark, goddamnit, no...."  
He dropped the book and ran in the direction where Mark had gone, forcing his disease-weakened legs to run, run, run....  
  
  
Dear April,  
Happy 28th birthday.  
I love you.   
I'll be with you soon.  
Mark  
  
  
Roger hoped he wouldn't be too late. 


End file.
